Title: The Clock's Moving Hand

Summary: Chronicles of the life of Sanji Blue as he meanders his elegant, chivalric way through life, love, and friendship.

Pairing: Yaoi. Sanji x Ace, Ace x Sanji, Sanji x Law, Law x Sanji, eventual Zoro x Sanji, Sanji x Zoro, Other pairings.

Rating: M for vulgarity, crude humor, sexual references, adult themes, violence

Note: This is a slow, luxurious story which I plan to unfold like a large, peaceful square of velvet. It'll take its time to develop. It was inspired by the clock on my wall and a song I love.

Dedication: To my muse and most beloved B. Sparkles. I bring you the fruit of my labors, the harvest of my mind, the very pith of my literary being. May you enjoy the story as I have enjoyed your friendship, your advice, and your beautiful individualism!

A/N: This is the next major story I plan to work on when Betting finishes, so hopefully you guys like it.

Prologue

~0~

At age twenty two, Sanji Blue was a man of infinite poise, stalwart integrity, and endless cunning. Blond, blue-eyed, and fair to the eye, he also was a man of impeccable attraction. If this was not enough, the man was blessed with a culinary talent so before unparalleled that he would never long lack an employer and his security of his future was never in question.

Despite this, Sanji Blue was a modest fellow to the delight of his friends and family who were the sort of cheerful people who would not long have tolerated a self-conscientious, highfalutin prig who believed that his shit didn't smell and stick to the bottom of the toilet when the load was a wee bit too great.

And so, the fall evening found this wonder of a man taking his daily constitutional through the city's more suburban locations, wrapped in a black wool trench coat with the collar turned up against the cold and a white gloved hand holding the slim, deadly barrel of a cigarette up to the red, full lips of his mouth. The other hand held the top of a long, black cane, crowned with the faux gold head of a wolf, and he tapped it amiably along the dirty grey concrete as he strolled.

Sanji Blue was the kind of man who, not needing one, walked with a cane in order to best accentuate his fashionable nature. The cane made a statement. Especially one which was as exotic and trendy as the one he currently held. The cane was hip. And Sanji Blue was a hip man, if nothing else.

The evening constitutional was also another factor which made Sanji Blue. If he had not bundled himself up and gone out walking, he would not have had a chance to parade the cane, the trench coat, the black silk top hat he was currently sporting, and the sweet black and white jazz shoes that tapped the ground in time with the cane. He would not have become not only well-known in the city, but well-liked and admired. We believe that Sanji Blue has already been characterized as cunning.

However, he was not a man whose mind worked on such a superficial day-to-day basis. Though Sanji Blue probably knew that he benefited immensely from being such a vogue and stylish figure, the joy he felt in socializing and knowing his many, many friends, acquaintances, and intimates was so purely sincere that his moments of faint egotism had to be forgiven, and immediately at that, usually with a hasty apology offered on the detractor's part for have dared to doubt Sanji Blue in the first place.

He flashed a polite, but utterly charming smile at a young woman about his age who jogged past him, earbuds plugged into her ears, and her cheeks red from the chill and her workout. She was not particularly pretty, but Sanji Blue found that her eyes were beautiful. Large, with irises that to anyone else would have just been plain brown, but to the man in the black trench coat, were the color of smoked honey.

She smiled back, slightly confused but pleased at the sincerity of his appreciation.

Halfway home, he began to hum.

~0~

They said home was where the heart was. If that was true, then Sanji was bemused to find out that his heart was loud, at times obnoxious and idiotic, secretly serious, at times, grim, and always hungry. He lived with three of his friends, Luffy D. Monkey, Brooklyn Esqueleto, and Franklin Thomas. They had all attended college together and quickly bonded so tightly that, after they had graduated, they had decided to buy a large house for the three of them.

It was a decision he absolutely regretted and would have killed to keep.

As soon as Sanji had tossed his hat and cane on the coat tree in the hallway and hung up his long coat in the hallway's small but useful closet, he heard the ruckus in the living room. He was not surprised. Not at all. His house was such, that if there was a prolonged period of silence, Sanji began to wonder which kid had fucked up this time.

His age they might be, but the friends that lived with him could have been his children, so high-spirited, unspoiled by the world's bitterness, and playful were they. Despite the multitude of broken things, the bottles of aspirin, and the long, long, sleepless nights in which the other three decided it was a good night to play Call of Duty or Halo at the highest volume which the large plasma television could possibly maintain; Sanji Blue would not have had it otherwise.

But at times, his kids needed to be kept in check. And forcefully.

"All right. What was broken, how much did it cost, and whose dick is going to detach itself from its brother balls?" Sanji demanded, rolling up the sleeves of his black suit and striding into the living room. He was a man on a mission.

His sea-blue eyes quickly swept the four corners of the large room, quickly observing every little single detail and analyzing it as soon as it sunk in.

The large plasma television, set snugly in the rich mahogany entertainment center, was turned on. Mario, that sweet, plump, and kickass Italian was looking out amiably enough at the chaos in the living room, white gloved hands lying limply to the sides of his navy blue overalls, completely unaware of the rushing brown Goomba which clearly meant to kick Mario's ass.

The reason for Mario's obliviousness was the fact that Luffy was busy giving Brooklyn, or Brooke as everyone called him, a very fierce and unforgiving noogie, a wild grin stamped across his handsome features. Brooke was screaming and laughing and flailing everywhere, his long, long limbs were rolling and flapping, knocking knick knacks and other small, insignificant figurines off the shelves of the nearby bookcases and end tables. This was the crashing noises that Sanji had heard and was currently hearing.

Frankin, or Franky as everyone called him, was yanking on Brooke's legs, attempting to save the black man from the nefarious clutches of Luffy. This tug-of-war over Brooke's body was currently dismantling Sanji's living room.

At his entrance, the unlucky trio swiveled to look at him, eyes suddenly wide in nervousness and fear. Luffy and Franky, freezing, dropped Brooke as if Sanji had not just seen them and all three assumed guilty, bashful smiles.

In the silence which followed, the Goomba slammed Mario. Mario cried out in pain. Under normal audio levels, Mario would have sounded indignant and annoyed; under the obscene audio levels which these three stooges liked to play video games, Mario sounded like he had just been castrated, sans anesthesia.

"Turn. That. Shit. Down." Sanji deadpanned, finger jutting out to the lighted screen.

"Sanji!" Luffy said, horrified, black eyes wide and reproachful, "Mario is not shit. Mario is Bamf."

I wouldn't care if his dick was made out diamonds." Sanji snapped back, 'And if you broke the ceramic fish that Vivi gave me, God help you.'

Something which struck people who met Sanji Blue for the first time, and who were lucky enough to see him in all of his elements, was the fact that he could in one breath eloquently quote from a variety of learned men, from Socrates to Buddha, and the next, say something raunchy, violent, lewd, and breathtakingly disgusting.

"No, no. We only broke, um, the clay pirates that Luffy made in third grade." Brooke said, gauging the mess on the floor.

"Well, no great loss." Sanji said, but was cut off by the wailing cry of anguish from Luffy.

What! My clay pirates! I've had those for fourteen years!" The strawhat, so called because of the battered heirloom he carried, clasped to the messy black mess on his head, dropped to his knees and shifted through the jagged pieces of glass, clay, and ceramic on the floor.

"We also broke the ceramic miniature of Michelangelo's Pieta that Usopp carved us," Franky added, picking up the jagged remains of something which had, no doubt, been a masterpiece, but no longer was.

"And the porcelain dick that Shanks bought us in Paris," Brooke put in, holding up something large, pale pink, and obviously broken.

"And the glass picture frame of us at our graduation," Franky mused, glancing down again.

"My clay pirates Sanji!" Luffy wailed, holding up fragments of some unlovely, crude, pieces of a tan, featureless material. Sanji thought that he had seen better things come out of his ass, but to say so to Luffy would be tantamount to breaking the guy's heart.

Sanji sighed. Really, it had been hardly possible to distinguish the clay figures as human, much less as pirates, when they had been whole. And Luffy had never paid attention to them at all before this. In fact, it had been Sanji who had packed them carefully in days-old newspaper and had made room for them beside his own delicate chinawork.

But now, the clay pirates were Luffy's world.

He held his hands out, his gloves long since abandoned on the coat rack, "Give them here Luffy. I'll fix them up." He had never wanted to be a mother, had been born with balls, not boobs. But what the hell. Guys could bake cookies and bandage booboos too, damn it.

Luffy scrambled up and dumped the figurines into his hands, looking grateful, "Sorry, Sanji! I swear I'll be more careful next time."

Mentally, Sanji ticked another hashmark on his internal scoreboard. This was the two thousand, three hundred sixth time in which Luffy promised to be careful, think twice, look before leaping, and not to eat it even if it looked good.

"Ah, fuck, Luffy, you died!" Franky cawed, seizing the remote control where Mario's sad face was informing the general company that, so sorry, but the game was over.

"Hey! I was playing!" Luffy yelled back, hurdling over the sofa and landing on Franky's broad back like some sort of human chimpanzee. "Give me that controller if you don't want me to kick your thronged ass!"

"I am suddenly struck with the urge to play Banjo Kazooie," Brooke suddenly murmured, scratching at his afro.

Sanji laughed and sat down comfortably in a big easy chair which had been dragged up to a small table. Rummaging in a nearby drawer, he quickly located the SuperGlue, and set to work.

Meanwhile, Luffy, Brooke, and Franky had switched to playing Call of Duty: Black Ops again.

"Hey Sanji!" Luffy suddenly called out, his eyes never leaving the screen, a big smile on his face.

"Hmmm."

"Guess who called me while you were gone!"

Sanji glued a disembodied arm to what he assumed was the pirate's torso and held it there, "I don't know. Who?"

"Guess!"

"Your dad.

"Nope!"

"Your mom."

"Nope!"

"I give up." Sanji said, only putting half an ear to the strawhat, the clay pirates were fucking hard to assemble and stick together. Maybe he should just lie and say he had fixed them.

"Ace!" Luffy yelled, sounding ecstatic.

"Ace? Isn't that your brother?" Sanji asked. He had heard Luffy's stories about his funny and outgoing older brother, but he had never personally met the man. The way Luffy described him, Sanji wasn't sure whether if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Yeah! And guess what he said? He said that he's coming back to the States, and that he needs a place to stay, so I told him we're ready for him when he comes!"

A vein popped out in Sanji's forehead, and he calmed himself, remembering that it was a thirty year sentence for first-degree murder. But trust Luffy to do something so stupid, so idiotic, so heartwarming generous, so beautifully humanitarian. It just. Made. Him. Sick.

Sure, the other three paid a portion of the rent, but the one who had shucked his buns to make this whole house-living-together-dream a reality, and who had paid down payment and moving fees and all the dozen of little things that were needed, had been him. This was his house.

"Luffy. What have I told you about inviting strange people to our house?" Sanji yelled, standing up and glaring accusingly at the other man. Jesus H. Christ jumped up and played the fiddle! He had thought he had Luffy cured of bringing strangers to his house ever since the hobo-mania craze of '09 in which Luffy had not only decided that every bum, hobo, and grungy looking person on the streets was not only his best friend, but his fucking soul mate.

"Ace isn't strange! He's my brother!" Luffy protested, eyebrows suddenly rushing forward in a show of obstinacy to come. He abandoned the controller to meet Sanji's fiery gaze.

"I know him too Sanji!" Franky piped in, even his electric blue hair seemed to nod in agreement.

"And I have had pleasure of meeting him as well," Brooke said, fluffing his afro up, "And it's about time you met him too. The man's a little wild, but you'd love him. Everyone ends up loving him."

"Well, Brooke, I am not everybody and I usually find that your form of good taste varies greatly from what I consider good taste," Sanji answered smoothly, eyes still angrily fixed on Luffy's. "From what I hear from you three buffoons and everyone else, your brother, Luffy, is some narcoleptic, pyromaniac , crazily insane man who goes around wearing costume jewelry and little else."

Luffy looked absurdly proud of the not-so-flattering description, "That's Ace all right."

"That settles it Luffy. I can't have that kind of a person in this house. I can barely handle the three of you!" Sanji said authoritatively, signaling the end of the conversation by turning around and fixing a glass picture frame on a nearby shelf.

He should have known that the conversation had not ended. That the conversation would not end until whatever Luffy wanted, he had secured. Because Luffy never surrendered when he had a clear objective in mind. After the dust had settled and Sanji had found himself straddled with the obligation of housing a potentially dangerous ex-felon in the sacred sanctum of his house, he would look back and shake his head, wondering why the hell he had bothered standing up to Luffy in the first place.

But at the time, he had been absolutely certain of himself.

"But Sanji! Ace needs a place to stay, where the heck is he going to stay if we don't give him a room?" Luffy demanded, throwing down his controller and following Sanji, who had walked off to the kitchen.

"I don't know and I don't care. I'm sure he'll find some housing around here. There's always a room for rent somewhere. Or an apartment. An apartment sounds good." Sanji mused, opening the fridge and peering inside.

Luffy perched on the edge of a chair, Sanji could hear the scraping of the feet as it shifted on the tile, "But that's no fun! And anyway, why should Ace pay rent somewhere else if we can give him free rent? There's an extra bedroom next to your room!"

"That's not the problem Luffy. The problem is that I can't handle another doofus under this roof. It's a health hazard," Sanji answered, taking out the mayonnaise and sliced ham. He was hungry, walking always did that for him.

"Actually, Ace is pretty calm compared to Luffy!" Brooke shouted from across the hallway, 'You'd like him, he has class.'

Sanji frowned, not liking the way the conversation was going. "Everyone's calm compared to Luffy Brooke. I remain unimpressed. Try again."

"Why don't I give you his phone number?" Luffy asked, taking out his phone excitedly, "You can talk to him and see for yourself!" He waved the phone enthusiastically in the air.

"Whoa,"' Sanji held up a restraining hand, partly to keep Luffy from slamming his head with the madly waving phone and partly to reveal his whole discontent with the issue. He didn't want to make any sort of contact with Luffy's brother. Contact was the first step towards accepting this entire farce. No, he'd remain out of it entirely thank you very much.

"But Sanji! Ace doesn't have the time or the money to shack up somewhere else and all his friends live across the country!"

"Well Luffy, he sounds like a resourceful man. He'll figure it out." But already Sanji could feel the little worm of sympathy in his heart. He sounded like a prick to his own ears. Why the hell couldn't he allow just one more person into the house? He already was insane with the other three. What was one more?

His hands unscrewed the jar of pickles and he began to spread the thin mayonnaise onto two slices of bread; an expression of studious thought on his face.

"But Sanji!" Luffy cajoled, "He already thinks he has a place to stay. He's made all the arrangements to get his stuff here and bought his ticket to the San Diego Airport."

"Ah, shit," he grunted back, "You really went all out Luffy. Why didn't you just send him the keys to the freaking house?"

"So you're okay?" Luffy beamed, big eyes all but shining and driving Sanji blind.

It was impossible how suddenly the situation had been reversed on him. Just impossible. What kind of strange and inauspicious star had he been born under to have such luck?

"Fine. I agree, but the moment this guy causes trouble, even if he is your brother, he's out. Capiche?"

"Ah, he won't cause trouble."

"When is he even getting here? And do I have to go pick him up or something?" he said, resigned.

"Tomorrow! And no, he said he'd take a Taxi from the airport."

"Tomorrow! Ah, I should have fucking known. Luffy, next time, tell him some warning would be nice. No, scratch that, tell him there isn't going to be a next time." He turned around to put the sandwich ingredients back in the fridge, a small frown on his lips.

"Swure!"

Sanji cursed inwardly, suddenly realizing the level of his stupidity. What was Sanji's Rule Number Three for Dealing With Luffy? Never turn your back on food and Luffy.

Sighing, he took out the ham and cheese again.

~0~

What Luffy wanted, Luffy got. And now, Luffy wanted a welcome home party for his older brother. Sanji had given in almost immediately, a little dazed with the rapidity with which Luffy disarmed him.

All three were sitting in the living room, attempting to draw up a plan. Sanji had a notebook on his knee and his cell phone out, fingers rapidly punching in messages.

Sanji looked up, "All right Luffy. I invited everyone. Nami, Chopper, Robin, Usopp, Kaya, Buggy, Kohza, Alvida, Kamakiri, Bentham, Sabo, Kaimi, Marguerite…everybody."

"Nice! I got Pat and Oscars to cater and Party City is going to deliver a shitload of balloons and streamers tomorrow morning," Luffy said, grinning, "Ah, Ace's going to love this."

Franky laughed and got up, swaggering his meaty hips, "I'll take care of entertainment."

"Yohohohohoho! And I'll play the piano or violin if music is desired!" Brooke reached over to where his violin case, always near, lay at his feet, and drew it out. The bow gleamed as the musician placed it lovingly to the strings.

"Well, at least that's going to be nice," Sanji said approvingly. He was always a stickler for a good piece of classical music. And Brooke was one of the best. A hidden Bach. "Brooke, you need to play for him that piece of yours, the one you've been playing all this week."

"Ah, the Serenade of Time?" Brooke questioned proudly, and played the first golden notes.

Sanji smiled, good humor restored with the sweet melody. Ah well, the best he could do now was to hang onto the ride of craziness. "Yes, that one. It's beautiful."

"Nah! Brooke play the shanty! Ace'd like that better," Luffy interrupted, "The one that goes Yohohohoho, Yohohohoho~"

"Those are the only lines you know Luffy, still?" Franky snorted, amused. "We've sung that millions of times!"

"His capacity to retain is, at best, limited," Sanji told Franky, rolling his eyes.

"True, true."

Luffy was ignoring them and dancing happily in time to Brooke's shanty sea song. And suddenly a thought, a most unwelcome thought, flooded Sanji's mind. He had grown so used to living with these jokers, these accepting jokers, that he hadn't even thought about-

"Hey! Luffy!"

Luffy turned his head and peered over his shoulder, "Yeah, what up?"

Sanji pinned him with his look, "Is your brother going to have a problem with me?"

"No, course not! Why would he-"

"No. Is your brother going to have a problem with me," Sanji repeated emphatically.

Luffy just looked at him, "No, course not! Why would he-"

Franky interrupted, "No, bro. He's asking if your bro is going to have qualms about sleeping under the same roof as a guy who wouldn't have a problem jumping his bones."

"Nicely put Franky," Sanji said, snorting.

"Thank you bro," and Franky slapped palms with Brooke.

"I don't get—ooohhhh," Luffy said, mouth puckering into an 'O', "Ohhhh." And just as suddenly, he burst out laughing.

"I'm fucking glad my orientation amused you Luffy," Sanji said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at the other's mirth. "I assume that this Ace of yours doesn't care then?"

"Nah, he's good," Luffy said, the strawhat looked like he was about to say something else, but cut himself off, and instead repeated, "He doesn't have a problem with that kind of stuff." His brown eyes twinkled.

Sanji looked back down at the notebook in his hand, "Well, at least that's okay. So when—"

"Hey Luff-bro, isn't Ace—" Franky began.

The next thing Sanji knew was that Luffy was wrapped around Franky's head, hands pulling energetically at the engineer's bright blue hairdo and singing 3OH!3's 'I'm not your boyfriend baby' at the top of his lungs.

"Whash! Luffshi! Geroff me!" Franky cawed, attempting to pry the lithe body from off his neck.

"—I'm not your cute little sex toy! You fucking with my city, you fucking with the best! These—" Luffy sang gustily, eyes shining mischievously, and laughing like a lunatic.

The cigarette in Sanji's mouth bent ominously.

"Idiots!"

In the tumult that followed, whatever Franky had been about to say was quietly forgotten.

~0~