*shows up 17 years late to One Piece fandom with fic*

This fic will be updated every week until it's complete! It's rated M for later chapters (and an explicit version will be on AO3/archiveofourown under the username Cinaed).

Pairings included or mentioned in this fic are: Gin/Sanji, Nami/OFC, Gin/OMCs, and Johnny/Yosaku.

Thanks go out to vejiicakes and drcalvin for encouraging me with this and helping me out with characterization and ideas! This is written for the trope_bingo square "food porn."

The title comes from "After the Storm" by Lang Leav.

When the waiter brought their meals, Renshaw took one look and whistled, loud enough that he got a few dirty looks from the neighboring diners.

The dirty looks faltered and shifted to apologetic or nervous expressions when Gin stared back.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to New World food," Renshaw said, oblivious, and reached out a long finger to prod at something bright purple and spiny on his plate. He laughed and nudged at Jedrick, who sat on his right. "Hey, give me your medical opinion here, doc. Alive or dead?"

Jedrick, grimacing, leaned back in his chair. It wobbled dangerously until Gin reached out and steadied it. Jedrick flashed him a quick, grateful smile. "Thanks, captain." He squinted at Renshaw's plate. At last he shrugged. "Hopefully dead. Though who knows. Remember that island where they ate live shrimp?"

"Hey, the shrimp were good, especially with that spicy sauce," Anfinn said through a mouthful of food. What looked like an octopus arm dangled from the corner of his mouth as he grinned. "Felt a little funny wiggling its way down, that's all."

Jedrick sighed. "You're both disgusting. Just shut up and let me eat before I lose my appetite," he grumbled as he picked up one of his rice balls. Despite his irritated tone, he ate without reservation.

Gin waited until Renshaw poured sake straight into the spiny shell and took a spoon to his self-made soup. Then, assured that everyone at the table was eating, he started in on his seafood fried rice. He ate slowly, growing more and more confused with each bite, because the rice tasted familiar and strange all at once.

It had to be flavored with some New World spice similar to an East Blue one, he decided. About to eat another spoonful, he paused, his attention caught by a whispered argument at the crew's second table.

When he glanced at Haruna, his first mate wore a blank expression, only the small crease in her forehead betraying her growing exasperation. She met his gaze. Something flickered in her eyes, half a question.

Gin tilted his head a little, listening. He wished he could see the table better, but Renshaw's broad shoulders blocked his view.

"Just eat it, stupid! You want another lecture about wasting food?" That was Luong, his low voice roughened by an irritated edge.

"I paid for my own dinner. Can't see why the captain cares what I eat or don't." It had to be Ethelyn who answered him, sounding equally annoyed. She'd joined the crew only a few weeks ago, after they'd recovered her from the wreckage of her old ship, and was still adjusting to Gin's rules.

Luong made an exasperated sound. Gin could picture his scowl. He snapped, "The captain doesn't care what you eat, long as you finish your meal. Look, just give it to me, I'll eat it-"

"Keep your hands off my plate," Ethelyn said, her voice rising, and Gin nodded at Haruna. He couldn't see what she did, but Ethelyn's protest ended in a shocked little yelp.

"Either eat it or let Luong have it," Haruna said flatly. She didn't bother keeping her voice quiet. "Unless you want to explain to the captain why you were going to throw away perfectly good food."

In the moment following Haruna's statement, it was easy to see who had followed Gin from Krieg's crew and who had joined later. Krieg's former men all paused and looked as one towards the other table, amusement gone from their faces.

"Who's wasting food?" Renshaw demanded.

"No one," Haruna said. Her gaze flicked towards Ethelyn.

After a second, Ethelyn said in a half-resentful mutter, "Just a misunderstanding. I'm giving some of my food to Luong."

Renshaw's expression brightened. "Oh, well, if you're sharing-" He leaned back in his chair and grinned, opening his mouth wide and gesturing for Ethelyn to toss some food his way.

She threw a balled-up napkin instead, and the tension broke as Renshaw nearly swallowed it. He gagged and spit it out, cursing good-naturedly and throwing it back at her.

Gin leaned back in his chair. Haruna was still watching him, her dark eyes steady. He nodded again and she resumed eating. He'd take Ethelyn aside later, remind her that his rules weren't optional. Right now, he was distracted by the fried rice. There was something about the taste that kept nagging at him, like an old memory only half-remembered.

"Something wrong, boss?" Anfinn asked.

Gin blinked, realizing that he was frowning. He shook his head and finished the last bite. "No. I'm going to talk to the chef."

Anfinn relaxed and grinned; Gin complimenting the chef had become a tradition over the years. He shoveled another mouthful of seafood into his mouth. "Tell him how good the octopus was, boss," he said, thankfully after he'd swallowed.

Gin stood, that strange but familiar spice lingering on his tongue. He licked his lips and looked over his crew. "Anyone have something to say to the chef?"

"Tell him dinner was great!" met his ears, along with Anfinn's cheerful, "Try some sweet talk, boss! Maybe you'll get a second helping out of it."

"I'd like to pay my compliments to the chef," Gin said when he got into the kitchen. He was directed to the back, where a red-faced man was scolding two much-younger cooks, who stared back with resentment in their eyes.

"I said a pinch of pepper. A pinch, not a fistful," the chef hissed, and then waved the cooks away before he looked up at Gin. Annoyance gave way to a moment's confusion. Then recognition hit. Gin could almost see his wanted poster reflected in the man's eyes. The chef's expression turned wary but polite. "May I help you, sir?"

"Just here to give my regards to the chef," Gin said mildly. "My crew liked the meal."

It was always interesting to see how a chef reacted to his compliments. Some looked disbelieving, as though it was beyond understanding that a pirate could be polite. Some looked gratified but unsurprised, used to such praise. This chef's expression wavered between surprise and tentative pleasure before breaking out at last into a warm smile. "Thank you!"

"That seafood fried rice," Gin began, and then paused as the chef clapped, beaming.

"I knew that would be a hit! Vantash, didn't I say people would love the seafood fried rice?" All wariness fled, the chef leaned forward, dropping his voice to a confiding whisper. "That's a new recipe, sir! And you'll never believe who taught it to me!" He paused, and when Gin said nothing, announced, "Black Leg Sanji himself!"

The name was like a punch to the gut. For a second Gin couldn't breathe. He saw Sanji in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, grinning at the chef as he taught him the recipe. No wonder it had tasted familiar, he thought, and resisted the urge to touch his mouth.

His expression must have changed, because the chef blinked and took a half-step back, looking nervous again. "We're, uh, not friends! H-he was here just the other day, came in to pay his compliments. We got to talking about recipes-"

"When?"

The chef took another step back, bumping against the counter. He'd gone pale. His gaze darted everywhere but towards Gin, as though he thought one of the other cooks would rescue him. None of them moved. "Three days ago. I think his crew left right after that-"

"Stay here," Gin said, and turned.

Jedrick was the first one to spot him. His smile faltered, and he half-rose from his seat. His hand went to his pistol, but he didn't draw it. "Problem, captain?"

"No," Gin said. Jedrick relaxed a little, though his frown lingered. Gin's thoughts cleared as his crew turned in their seats to look at him, wearing varying concerned and confused looks.

Three days, the chef had said. Was it possible to catch up with the Straw Hats at last and fulfill his promise to Luffy? To see Sanji and-

"Finish your food and get back to the ship," he said. "Haruna, I want us ready to set sail as soon as possible." His gaze landed on his navigator. "Renshaw, I need you with me."

"But you just said we could finish our food," Renshaw objected. He winced at Gin's stare and scrambled upright, nearly knocking over his chair. "Uh, I mean, yes, sir."

The chef started talking the minute Gin and Renshaw came through the doors, his hands up as though to ward them off. "Look, I don't know what problem you have with the Straw Hats but I don't want any part of it."

Renshaw blinked. A half-dozen emotions flitted across his face, and then he grinned widely. He bounced a little on his heels, looking as excited as he had when Mauro had surprised him with a birthday feast. He stared between the chef and Gin. "Wait, the Straw Hats were here? Are you serious?"

"Three days ago," Gin confirmed, and watched Renshaw's grin widen. "Think we can catch up to them?"

Renshaw's expression instantly sobered. "Three days is tricky, but I'll do my damnedest, boss." He turned to the chef, who was staring at them. "Do you know where they were headed?"

The chef squinted at them for a moment, not bothering to hide his confusion. When Renshaw leaned forward expectantly, the man flinched. Before Gin could suggest that he answer Renshaw's question, the chef said cautiously, "Well, I mentioned the Clalk Reef, just off Brohst Island. It has a rare breed of jellyfish. Black Leg got really excited about it. Most jellyfish have no flavor when you cook them, you see, but these taste like-"

"Right, right, sounds good," Renshaw interrupted. "But how do we get there?"

"Well," the chef said, and launched into an explanation about the particular magnetic fields of the neighboring islands, which Renshaw seemed to understand, judging by his intent look, but which Gin only understood every other word.

Gin resisted the urge to snap at Renshaw and the chef to hurry up. Instead he prowled around the kitchen, looking at the space where Sanji had been only three days ago. Impatience nearly choked him. It was hard to think with the cool headedness he was known for, to look at things logically when the Straw Hats could be leaving Brohst Island this very moment and heading for the next island, this time without leaving an obvious trail behind them.

If they'd even gone to the island. But Gin was certain that they had. He remembered how Luffy had counted Sanji among his crew even after Sanji's initial refusal, like there was no other cook he could ever want for his crew, and then, more distantly, the memory made hazy by the pain he'd been in at the time, how angry Luffy'd been on Gin's behalf when Krieg had mocked him. Yes, Gin thought that Luffy was exactly the type of captain who'd sail to a strange reef just because one of his nakama asked him.

"Okay," Renshaw said at last. He stepped away from the chef. He was smiling again, that sharp-toothed grin he wore whenever the Grand Line and the New World threw its worst at him. "I'm ready, boss."

"Good," Gin said, something like relief touching him.

They were halfway to the door when the chef called after them. "So you're, uh, allied with the Straw Hats? Or planning to ally with them?" When Gin looked back, scowling at the delay, the chef paled and stammered, "W-well, it's just that the newspapers haven't reported any new pirate alliances, and the Straw Hats getting another ally is big news, so…."

Renshaw stopped, looking offended. "What, and it's not big news that someone would ally with us?" He scowled, folding his arms against his chest. "We might not have taken out Enies Lobby or anything flashy like that, but we're plenty strong. We-"

"Renshaw," Gin said. Amusement warred with exasperation for a second, and then that earlier impatience drowned out all other emotion. "We don't have time for this."

"But, boss!" Renshaw protested. He yelped as Gin seized him by the shoulder and hauled him towards the door. Stumbling after Gin and still scowling, Renshaw waved a finger at the chef. "Look, buddy, Captain Gin knew Straw Hat Luffy and Black Leg Sanji back in the East Blue before anyone even knew who the hell they were. The captain saved their lives!"

The memory of Sanji struggling under his hands, trying to pry the gas mask off his face struck Gin like another blow. He repressed a wince. "Renshaw," he snapped, and the chef's face paled even more. "Enough. We're going."

He wasn't surprised when Renshaw kept talking. "The Straw Hats would be lucky to ally with us!" Renshaw said loudly as the kitchen door closed on the chef's astonished expression.

Once back in the dining room, Renshaw's shoulder relaxed in Gin's grip. He shot Gin a sheepish look. "Sorry, boss. Just made me mad, him acting like we're nothing."

"When I give you an order, you follow it," Gin said. He waited for Renshaw's nod. "But we can discuss it later. Now let's go."

"Right," Renshaw said, and brightened, striding past Gin. Most of the crew had already headed back to the ship, but Anfinn was still seated at his table, finishing off what looked to be Renshaw's plate. "Finn, get moving! The Straw Hats are three days ahead of us!"

"The Straw Hats?" Anfinn's face went through similar contortions to Renshaw's before he let out a yell of excitement that drew vaguely outraged stares from the other diners. Grinning from ear to ear, his voice hoarse from the yell, he said, "I'll let everyone know!" Then he bolted.

The crew was affectionate, of course, always grinning at Gin and inviting him in jokes. (Unless they were in trouble, in which case they wore their sorriest expressions.) But they saved the slaps on the shoulder and hugs for each other and not for Gin or Haruna, like there was an invisible line they didn't dare to cross.

Renshaw seemed to have forgotten about the line, for in the next second his hand landed on Gin's shoulder, warm and heavy. He grinned, his eyes bright with determination, his voice painfully earnest. "We'll catch up to them, captain. I promise."

Gin stared. He knew that most of the crew were ridiculously invested in seeing Gin make good on his promise to meet Straw Hat Luffy again on the Grand Line; he had even been touched watching them scour the newspapers for any mention of the Straw Hat crew.

Now, looking at his navigator, he found himself bewildered by the intensity of feeling reflected in both Renshaw and Anfinn's faces. Did they really care that much that he keep his three-year-old promise? A sudden suspicion bloomed in him. Had he failed in hiding how badly he wanted to see Sanji again?

The back of his neck warmed. No, he couldn't have been that obvious. He stepped away from Renshaw's hand and tried to remember how to smirk. After a second he managed one. "Well, we won't if you keep standing around making promises instead of navigating," he said dryly. "Let's go."

"Yes, boss!" Renshaw said, and kept grinning all the way to the Tsuchinoko.