porcelain | sanami one shot
post wci, wci spoilers !!
( originally posted on ao3 )
« Nami-san...! S-sorry, I didn't... »
A calm Nami turned approaching the door, her face showing no trace of surprise.
As if she had expected, at any moment, the young man to be crossing the threshold of the room she shared with Robin, and she had perhaps been waiting for him for longer than she cared to admit. On the outside, this situation would appear ambiguous and uncomfortable, and anyone with a minimum of observational skills could clearly visualize the following events: Sanji, who for once wasn't acting with bad intentions, being kicked unceremoniously into the hallway; Nami, berserk furious considering he hadn't bothered to knock, urgently closing the door behind her, remembering that she was, well, still in her underwear, and not wishing for anyone else to see her like that.
However, none of the crewmates had the honor of enjoying such a scene. Nami was indeed quite naked, sitting in front of the damaged ruins of the dear old vanity—severely tested by the events of Whole Cake Island, Franky certainly wouldn't hesitate to build a second one asap—with a certain unusual relaxation in noting Sanji-kun, after all, was there.
Sanji-kun, for his part, initially recall all his willpower not to faint on the spot at the sight of the harmonious, splendid, canonic, elegant, stratospheric... body, constrained by that skimpy white lace set, almost unworthy of containing and framing the girl's generous breast. Seized by guilt, he turned away, instinctively bringing his palms to his eyes.
« I didn't expect someone like you, who claims to worship the ladies, to prove so timid in practice » she simply chuckled, showing not the slightest embarrassment, as if he had caught her in her pajamas. She didn't add anything else, though.
Sanji didn't notice the lack of irony in her voice, panicked as he was, busy murmuring more and more apologies and cursing himself for having, again, albeit unknowingly, cracked the very rickety respect the girl he was in love with might now feel towards him; a feeling that, like the vanity, had been rapidly reconstituted following the recent events, patched up.
« I’m so, so, terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to… »
He considered dashing out of the room, in the most painless way for both of them, when Nami’s amused tone got him in a chokehold.
« What do you think you’re doing now, running away? » she asked, undermining the validity of his plan.
« You look at me, » she continued, a demand that didnt fail to instill confusion in her stunned collocutor.
Sanji couldn't match his intellect to her intentions, and the minimal self-control alive in him was suggesting this wasn't an invitation and, since it was her, she wasn't dressed like a doll for him. The multiple little voices in his head compassionately alerted him, that he should prepare to lose some teeth from a well-placed backhand. Decided to face the trap head-on, he sighed, displaying sincere regret, then turned around.
Nami was no longer where she had been sitting shortly before, actually standing in front of him. He forced himself not to back away, even when she approached him dangerously, and stared into her beautiful eyes, to avoid looking elsewhere. He tried to change the subject, or rather, to explain why he had entered without checking what she was doing.
« It wasn’t on purpose, Carrot-chan t-told me— »
« That was a lie. I'm not sick, I don't really need something warm to drink, I'm not agonizing in bed… you must have noticed, » she interrupted him, emphasizing the last whisper just to enjoy his predictable reaction.
Sanji felt breathless, especially now that he felt the lace of her bra against his chest. Nami-san was enjoying making him uncomfortable, and she had premeditated doing so. He didn't have time to verify what had gotten into her all of a sudden; grey cells overload was interrupted by the perception of the girl's slender fingers on his wrist, which she guided to her side, where his hand laid, dead, as if to prove, through the tactile sensations, that it wasn't there by the will of its owner.
Sanji withdrew from Nami's intense gaze, fixing his own as far away as possible, on the porcelain flower vase, placed on the windowsill, and then on a seagull that, fleeting and irritating, disappeared from the window frame, leaving behind the echo of its screech; he thought the bird wasn't wrong to mock him. He didn't dare to move his left palm a single millimeter, ignoring what seemed to him a silent prompt to do the same with the right one, to pull her closer, since he was conscious and strongly convinced that everything that was happening was devoid of any logic and he could not rely on the trail of common sense, which had never abandoned him before, when dealing with other, many other, women. But Nami-san was certainly not one of the many, so he didn't have the audacity to rely on the patterns previous experiences had allowed him to consolidate. This time, he felt very uncertain about what to do, paralyzed by the horrific contemplation she was just teasing him, anticipating her revenge, a resonant punch to the nose.
« I’ve just told you that you can look at me, why are you avoiding me? » she protested, seeking for his eyes, in vain.
He didn’t answered, unable to take control of such an audacious and controversial situation, which he certainly wouldn't have disdained if only she had shown, before, a vague symptom of rapprochement, any sign of having finally yielded to his avanches and gestures, the result of that long courtship developed exponentially, day by day, starting from the first meeting on the Baratie. He had tried very hard for Nami-san to grasp the extent, perhaps too affected, of his feelings, and perhaps he didn't want them to be stomped on like grass stems by her, at that moment, in that way. He swallowed, in silence.
« Maybe it’s true, I’m not good enough… » Sanji heard those sheepish words whispered, quietly; escaped from her lips without any malice, much less with the intention of being freed, Nami must have been ashamed of the mistake, giving that her cheeks flushed a bright red, as if she had only realized at that very moment that she was leaning over his sculpted body, her face a breath away from his neck and his bristly chin, looking for the attention that, she would have sworn, would never be lacking from him. She immediately lowered her head, staring at her hands, which had snapped into her lap, her eyes ran over her sides, one unadorned, the other protected by a warm presence. She blushed further, the security she had intended to wear instead of clothes, faded in a flash, and she felt more naked than ever.
« I don’t think I understand, Nami-san? What do you mean? » his gentle, as well as surprised voice, encouraged her to shift her gaze from the floor, and meet his. He was looking at her with a special seriousness, now. Still attempting to read her mind. Enchanted and softened by her shyness, his limbs moved on their own and Sanji didn't realize he had given in to instinct until he felt her body tremble at his touch.
I’m hugging her. Well done. I’m an idiot, I fell for it.
He’d wrapped both arms around her waist, this time, as he’d been rarely allowed on past and certainly dissimilar circumstances. He mumbled apologies, but couldn't reject that closeness. Feeling Nami's heartbeat drumming on his skin at that excessively rhythm was too much for a fainthearted like him.
I'd bet we look like... lovers... about to... no, no, I need to concentrate. Concentration. Damn it.
« Is that how you held Pudding last time? In her room, when you called her your salvation... » she whispered.
...Huh?
Nami's expression regained authority, although minimal, strong in having evaded his uncomfortable question with a provocation. Not such a smart move, however, she agreed with herself, calling herself foolish, since she had revealed, named, the cause of her sudden hesitation. Sanji-kun must have just understood, he was endowed with sharp intellect, when he didn’t behave like a fool: she was jealous. Of Pudding, of Sanji’s manly side, the same one she had always stubbornly refused. Incoherent and unfair, as well as jealous, but determined to hold on tight to what had almost slipped through her fingers.
«Huh?» he smiled, confused, dumbfounded. Nami intuited, or relied on hoping, he had read between the lines and was acting all dense, to induce her to explain herself better. Unmasked, she decided to go all the way. She had launched the nerve-wracking business and the responsibility for what was happening was only hers, of course. She took a deep breath and spoke, progressively losing her shit.
« Brook told me the truth, Sanji-kun. From how you had recounted it to him afterwards, in his opinion, you really grew fond of her, despite everything… I know it’s not my place to interfere with your choices, and besides, she too, from the little I seemed to understand, ended up falling in love with you, you could read it on her face… I think she’s suffering letting you go, after realizing how important you’ve become… her certainty… »
Nami wasn't just talking about Pudding.
A wave of negative feelings overwhelmed her, as memories not so distant took over. The realization Sanji would abandon them, that he would abandon her, followed by the onset of a singular form of desperation, to which she had given a face in those quiet sailing nights towards Wano, once the waters had calmed. A deep weight at the base of her chest, dissipated only once, the wedding cake having been delivered, the figure of Sanji-kun had returned to dwell the wooden kitchen of the Sunny.
His absence… makes me hold my breath. Geez…
Sighing, and rolling over in the covers, she had listened to herself, suffering a little from the lack of consultation with her roommate; she didn't judge herself and the crush she had gotten on the onboard cook, an eventuality that had never ever tickled her before.
Sanji-kun..? Seriously..?
Yet, she smiled to herself, in the dark, unable to feel guilty for that childish and primordial feeling. It had never happened to her.
« …Perhaps Brook fell asleep while I confessed that, despite everything, unfortunately, I am in love with you. »
Nami’s heart palpitated further, if possible, observing the dilation of his pupils. She understood he wasn’t lying. His voice had stopped trembling, not colored by the usual boldness, but by a sure clarity, the seriousness he reserved when discussing truly important things. She saw herself as part of these.
She wished to believe him. She decided to believe him.
She hid her forehead against his collarbone, not knowing where to put her hands, helpless. Again she felt insecure, percepiving the embarrassment flow up to the tips of her ears. In such a situation, she was unable to annihilate that declaration with the power of biting irony. And, intimately, deep inside, she was aware she didn't even want to.
« You're good with words... »
« I would have been better with actions, but you never let me »
Sanji didn't hold back from teasing her a bit. He was presumptuous enough to finally consider himself in control of the situation—at least, a little more than her; clever enough to begin stroking the little of her back, with his fingertips, aiming for her underwear, still not that brave enough. Lowering his head, to bury his face in her red hair, he even felt audacious enough to place light kisses on her temple, on her cheekbone. Surreal gestures he had always and only been able to touch within his most restless dreams. An absurd scenario, in which everything seemed simply right.
Nami, for her part, feared her body would melt like butter; she tried to hold back a sigh, failed miserably. Her knees betrayed her and she found herself leaning on his chest, cutting out any physical distance, and she awkwardly tried to interpose her palms. She stayed there, still as a stone.
Sanji barely chewed a smile, in order not to undermine her already rather cracked pride. He liked, for once, to think of her as subdued by those feelings that had accompanied and tormented him for years. He wanted to convince himself his happy ending had arrived, that she had finally accepted his zelant courting. He poked fun at her a little more.
« I just can't read you, Nami-san. First, you show yourself so bold, and then it seems you're regretting it. Your inconsistency makes you clumsy… you’re so cute, really »
He intended to rest his chin on her head, height difference allowing, but Nami's face snapped towards his, troubled.
« I'm not regretting it! Stop teasing me, it's obvious for a girl to feel nervous… in a moment like this… » she protested, her cheeks matching the chromatic scale of her hair « ...and you were like that too until a few minutes ago »
Clearly satisfied with the clarification, she managed to sustain his amused and smitten gaze.
« In a moment like this..? May you explain yourself better? »
Sanji’s fingertips moved up the path of her spine, curving at the height of her kidneys, settling on her hips, just under her breasts. His tone growing deeper. The tips of their noses now touching.
« You dummy... » she whispered, without really meaning it « I asked you to take me ser—”
He had stolen her a kiss. He had gathered all his courage and now that he had succeeded, he could hardly believe he had managed to wait for so long.
In that brief moment of silence and tension, Nami’s eyes flashed with an expression that was well known to him, certainly not because it had ever been directed at him. The need not to be subservient snapped within her, the burning desire to lead what she herself had decided was the moment to face, to choose for herself. Sanji, who knew her like the back of his hand, understood instantly.
« There hasn’t been a moment I haven’t taken you seriously, believe me. My only purpose is to make you content and, if feeling like the object of my actions makes you uncomfortable, I’ll be more than willing to let myself be tormented as you prefer. Seeing you self-assured and satisfied fills my heart with joy, even if it means depriving myself of your most hidden and rare versions. If I say I love you, that’s because I’m in love with your every side »
His frankness moved her to tears. For a long time, she had seen herself incapable of loving. She was now sure she felt the same, that the exact words pronounced by those enamoured lips traced the vision she had of him. It was useless to run away. That emotion, so pure, that she had always obstinately pushed away, which had continued relentlessly to die and bloom, cyclically, for months and months, she decided to let it grow into something beautiful, to make it a bit her own too, to honor Sanji-kun's resilience.
Common sense, shame, fear could go to hell.
She kissed him, with sweetness and anticipation, and he, abandoning the grip on her hips, preferring to take her face in his hands, perceived her smiling: she was making the right choice.