Ghost. {Sabo x Reader}

Hunger.

"You want help with that?" Sabo innocently asks with a sweet smile on his lips, watching as you set the table for dinner. 

No.

"Mmh...are you sure?"

Yes. If dad comes in and sees floating placemats, you'll freak him out.

The blonde was nice enough to cook for you and your father, naturally you had to stand in the kitchen with him so that your father doesn't end up wondering how delicious cooked food suddenly appeared out of nowhere. At least he stayed in the living room and let you pretend to cook in peace, seems he has taken a liking to your TV.

Now that the quiche is cooking you've decided to make your humble dining table look presentable, your old man has always liked the table to be set and ready for dinner.

Sadly when he was the one cooking - or in most cases - in charge of those who are cooking, all you ate was crocodile meat...which was gross but was unfortunately your dad's favourite. 

You were a teenager when you finally found out he named himself Crocodile after his favourite meal, and it still blows your mind to this day. 

I mean, I love macaroni and cheese but I sure as hell wouldn't name myself after the stuff.

"I feel bad watching you do this all by yourself though." The blonde pouts as you set down a fork, analysing your work before smiling to yourself. All done. "Where's my plate?"

"Kitchen." You mumble under your breath, making your way back into the room in question as Sabo follows behind inquisitively, your hand gesturing to the empty plate sat on the island counter.  "I'm sure you understand how odd it would look if I left room for you at the table, even more so when the food begins to float and vanish before dad's very eyes." 

You don't miss how Sabo's face sadden at this, your heart feeling as if somebody just squeezed it as the blonde forces an understanding smile. 

"Makes sense." 

Aw, Sabo...don't make me feel guil--!

"Haha! It would be funny to see though!" 

No, it wont!

"Petal?" Your father's muffled voice reaching your ears, as he makes his way into the kitchen also, his hand on his stomach as he runs his other hand--well, hook, across the counter. "When is the food going to be ready? I'm famished!" 

"Soon, just be patient." 

It's like caring for a child, jeez.

Much to your dismay, he does the exact opposite. A groan rumbling in his throat as he makes his way past you and toward Sabo, the blonde backing into the cupboards nervously but it does him little good, your father's hand reaching for Sabo's...his groin? No, he's reaching for the cupboard handle. And now his hand is going through your lover's groin, much to your blonde's discomfort.

That was unfortunate positioning.... 

Sabo shooting you an awkward glance as he shifts out of the way whilst your father's hook shuffles around in the cupboard loudly, knocking over your salt and vinegar in the process. "Is there any snacks in here that I can--"

"No! J-Just go back to the living room and wait!" 

Your father lets out a clear grumble in irritation but reluctantly moves aside nonetheless, closing the cupboard and instead leaning against the counter with his arms folded and his eyes focused on the stove. Sabo patting you on the shoulder and gesturing to the oven slightly, indicating that the food is ready to come out but for obvious reasons, he can't exactly do it himself.

Jeez. 

Grabbing the oven mitts from the counter, you put them on and begin to take out the food, your father audibly surprised by the sight. "You cooked this?" Of course, you don't feel comfortable taking credit for such a feat so with a small scoff, begin carrying the food through to the dining room. 

"I had to copy the recipe from Sabo's cookbook." Knowing your father doesn't care for cookbooks, you assume he wouldn't guess that you're talking utter bullshit, which proves to be true since he only hums in faked interest. 

You've come to learn in all your years that if your father doesn't speak heavily about a topic, that's because he doesn't care for it. You've seen him resort to bored hums when he's had to deal with clients or potential business partners in the past so you've had much time to pick up on this little quirk of his.

You cut the quiche into 3 portions, putting the largest on your father's plate and the smallest on your own but this only seems to confuse the old man as he sits himself down, tucking a napkin into the front of his shirt. 

"You're not going to eat the rest?"

"No...well, later...it's being put in the fridge for snacking purposes!" 

You notice the look of complete bewilderment wash over the male's face briefly before his stomach growls, turning his attention back to his meal as he rumbles a lazy "Whatever." before beginning to dig into the delicious quiche.

Of course, Sabo isn't best pleased with the smaller slice he gets, which considering he cooked it, makes you feel god awful but you couldn't exactly sneak the bigger bit past your old man at this point. 

"I'm sorry." You lowly whisper, planting a quick and gentle kiss on the blonde's cheek, which at least causes him to smile in understanding. 

Rushing your way back into the kitchen, you begin to eat your own meal, your father seemingly feeling more talkative now that he's being fed. 

"So, how'd you injure your leg?"

"I got excited about a good deal on furniture..."

"Hm. Is it healed now?"

"Mostly."

"You've always been so clumsy, petal."

A sudden bang catching your ears and causing you to jolt in your seat, impulsively looking over your shoulder and toward the kitchen but your father stops you with his hand before rising to his feet. "Stay here." He protectively warns before making his way into the adjacent room, of course you can't help but follow him. 

Though, you're more concerned about Sabo than your father.

What happened? 

Though, when you enter the kitchen, you don't find Sabo. 

There's nobody here but there is a smashed plate on the floor.

"What the hell...?"

Your father merely scoffs at your rhetorical question, turning around and making his way back into the dining room, his tense muscles seemingly relaxing in the process. "You got rats or something, petal?" 

"Uh...yeah..." 

Though upon following your old man, you find that his plate is now empty.

"What--?! My food!" 

Damn it! SABO!!

At least he left yours alone. 

"Where did my food go?!" Your father blurts, his previous annoyance making a reappearance as he glances under the table, a deep frown etched into his features.

"I don't know...the rodents are very different from the ones in Vegas. Cuter, but very greedy...and good climbers." You try to reason whilst reaching to grab your own plate and handing it over to your dad. "Here, have mine. I'm not hungry anyway."

"Hmph, fine. But you need to set some traps for these pests tomorrow!"

"Hm...no. You know how I like animals."

Jeez, Sabo. You owe me for this.