Damnit. Damnit. Damn it all to hell!

Nami wanted to beat her head against a wall somewhere, but she didn't have the time, or the free hands. She was late. She didn't want to be late, not today of all days.

She elbowed her way off all the crowded bus with all the ferocity her new silk miniskirt and the glass bowl full of trifle she was holding would allow her. She only succeeded in getting off by dint of sticking one stiletto clad foot out the door, accidentally stomping the other on some brunette with fluffy pigtails who wouldn't get out of the way, and losing most of her hairpins as she was flying out of the closing door.

Her phone buzzed in her hand as she took a moment to catch her breath by the side of the road in front of Luffy's gigantic building. She was about to ignore it when she checked the screen and saw it was from Usopp.

Where r u?

I'm almost there. He's not there yet, is he?

No, but u better hurry. Dunno y u care tho.

She scowled and didn't respond to the last text. Of course she cared. Normally, she wouldn't, but normally, Sanji would be the one cooking for their monthly old college pals get together at Luffy's place. He'd started cooking for them when he'd tasted the trifle Nami had brought to the first get-together and decided it tasted terrible.

So just because he'd declared that since he'd been busy today, they'd have to go back to actually doing a potluck, and just because she'd drawn the unlucky straw and been given the desert again, didn't mean she was chickening out. It wasn't her fault the only thing she could make was trifle. Maybe she was trying to rush so she'd make it there with enough time to put the trifle down in front of Chopper and turn her back, but that didn't make her a coward.

Nami took a deep breath, then stared up at the tall building where they'd met, ever since they'd all graduated and landed in the same city. Luffy lived in one of the biggest and oldest buildings in the city, where the rich and the famous mixed with the poor and high end department stores held up hole-in-the-wall restaurants, so there was a lot of traffic in and out. It wasn't a particularly ritzy part of town or a particularly fancy building - the plumbing was loud, and the elevator gave her the heebies all the time. But Luffy liked the view and the height, and said the roof was the best place to relax in the whole city. That meant that it was probably still faster to take the jerky, overstuffed elevator than it was to take the stairs. Resigned, Nami got to her feet, only to feel a sharp twinge in her ankle.

Shit. This day couldn't get any worse.

Shit, not again.

The only thing keeping Sanji from kicking those damn elevator doors down was the knowledge that if he did, they would never close. When they opened again, though, for what felt like the billionth time, Sanji was tempted to kick it anyways. When they finally did close, the tiny elevator felt like half the tenants in the building had been crammed in. Sanji was starting to get to know the sugary sweet smell of one of his neighbour's perfume really well.

Wait a minute.

He took another cautious sniff. He already knew that scent - he'd had to deal with it all day. He turned his head, and spotted a familiar looking caramel brunette head.

"Pudding-san," He somehow managed to contort his arm to tap her on the shoulder.

Big brown eyes blinked up in surprise, and she smiled in recognition, albeit a little painfully since she was squashed between a sumo wrestler and a housewife who was all angles.

"Sanji-san!" she responded, trying to edge a little closer to his side. "What are you doing here? I would've asked you for a ride over if I'd know you were coming, and avoided the bus. It was so crowded, and some mean woman stomped on my foot!" She winced.

Sanji internally cringed at the familiarity, but knew the girl didn't mean anything by it. Besides, he needed her on his side, so he replied, "Who could be so cruel and abuse your delicate self, Pudding-san? How thoughtless of me not to ask you."

"Well, you did leave the meeting in a bit of a hurry," Pudding giggled, blushing at his compliments. She winced as someone elbowed her in the back on their way out. "Are you sure you won't reconsider?"

"No," Sanji smiled down at her, wincing himself when someone kicked him in the calves. At least people were getting out now. "I want to stay in the city. My job and all my friends," He thought briefly and wistfully of Nami-san and Robin-chan, and the guys, "are here. In fact, I'm on my way to meet them for dinner now." His blue eyes turned steely, "My father had no right to promise on my behalf. Please help me make your family aware of that."

"Alright," Pudding sighed, and shot him a regretful smile, "The offer is open if you ever want to take me up on it. But I'll try to talk to Momma."

"Thank you, Milady," Sanji managed a slight bow, given that many people had already gotten off. "Your understanding and tact is only matched by your loveliness."

The elevator dinged at the last commercial floor, and Pudding, still blushing, said, "This is my floor, Sanji-san. I hope I'll see you again!" she made an awkward wave as the tide of people exiting carried her out the door.

"I await our next meeting with bated breath, Pudding-san," Sanji called after her.

"Bated breath, eh?" Sanji froze at the quiet words muttered from behind him. He knew that beautiful voice and the irascible tone.

Shit

Nami wanted to bite her tongue when the words came out of her mouth, but it was too late. Judging by the stiffness in his back, the playboy cook had overheard her.

Well, served him right. Who told him to go flirting with perfectly coiffed, way too perky brunettes who couldn't get out of the damn way? Oh wait, he flirts with everything in a skirt anyways.

"Nami-san," Sanji tried a smile, but he looked like he'd rather be a thousand miles away. It made Nami bristle even more.

They were the only two people left in the elevator now. Geez, she hoped the damn thing would hurry up, but it'd been designed for the five floors of commercial space, not the twenty five extra residential floors added on top. It was slow, and creaky, and of course Nami would be stuck in it with Sanji, the very person she'd been trying to avoid.

"Sanji-kun," She replied, emphasizing the honorific. She'd been stung by his formality when he was so easy with everyone else - he'd even used "-chan" with older, more mature Robin! - so she'd childishly tried to get back at him by using the less respectful honorific when she spoke to him.

She cursed herself again for being just a little too late and getting on the same elevator as him. She hadn't noticed, having jumped into the morass of people at the last moment, but she'd heard the irritating giggle, and saw the same girl she'd accidentally stomped on the bus, and had heard her complain about the damn stomp. Nami had hardly even grazed the woman. And of course, she'd heard Sanji's reply. Humph. Well excuse her for being a big, clumsy gorilla. She hadn't heard the rest of the conversation because of the clanging of the old elevator and people getting on and off, but she'd heard the farewells, and that had just properly ticked her off.

Sanji was eyeing her like a wary fox eyed a grumpy and hungry tiger. He always did around her, which did nothing to put Nami in a better mood. She wasn't that scary, was she? Okay, there had been the incident in University with the pizza and the cockroaches, but that had only been once, and the other girl hadn't been traumatized for long.

"That looks like a wonderful trifle, Nami-san," He tried, "Would you like me to help you with it?"

Instantly her back went up. What is he going to do, make fun of it again? "No, thank you," She responded haughtily. "I wouldn't want to insult your precious chef's hands with my plebian trifle."

Sanji blinked, looking genuinely confused. "No, I insist, Nami-san. You look like you could use the help." He tried to take the trifle bowl from her, but she wouldn't budge.

Okay, maybe she would like to put the thing down and rub her swollen ankle, and maybe she would like to adjust her hair, which was a sneeze away from falling from its careful coiffure into an unruly mess. But she didn't need the playboy chef's help.

"I said no, Sanji-kun!" She raised her voice, tugging harder at the bowl.

Unfortunately for her, she'd tugged and he'd let go just as the elevator lurched dangerously and stopped moving all together. The momentum was enough to send her trifle sloshing straight out of glass bowl and right onto her bare midriff and splattering all over her and her new, expensive silk skirt.

"Shit!" She screeched.

If the floor could have opened up and swallowed Sanji right that moment, he would've gladly dove in head first.

He always ended up doing the wrong thing around Nami, ever since he'd been struck by her beauty when he'd seen her in the quad with Luffy, Zoro and Usopp that fateful day in University, and then ditched his date to go and introduce himself. The date had not taken well to being ignored, and had started a shoving match with Nami over it. Nami... well, to this day, Sanji hadn't been able to look at Pizza the same way. Luffy, Zoro, and Usopp had found it hilarious, of course, and it was the start of a beautiful, if weird friendship.

But he and Nami... man, it was like they always rubbed each other the wrong way (not that Sanji would've minded rubbing against her). If he'd want to impress her, he made an idiot of himself. If he wanted to compliment her, he always accidentally ended up insulting her. If he wanted to sneak a look at her, she always ended up catching him. It was ridiculous.

Looking at her now, furious yet adorable, covered in whipped cream, he wanted to simultaneously hang his head in embarrassment and laugh. Unfortunately for him, he did both.

Nami turned bright right with humiliation. In a temper, she grabbed his tie and pulled him closer. But whatever she was going to yell at him died on her lips as she saw the expression on his face. It was so...

Uncool.

Unruffable, suave Sanji was looking incredibly uncool. He was scarlet red, and his face looked like he was about to cry or laugh or tap his heels together and try to disappear. He covered his face with his hand, and just would not meet her eyes.

It was... surprisingly adorable.

All the sexual tension that had been building since they'd met in the university quad, all the sparks that had flown when they'd clashed, all the simmering awareness of him that had constantly been there, under her skin, boiled over. It was like something had just... /snapped/.

Nami grinned, like a wolf sighting prey. Sanji must have been unnerved enough by her silence to look up at her, but she didn't think the smirk was at all reassuring. Good. She put the bowl down. She wouldn't need it now.

"Now look at what you did, Sanji-kun. You got my new skirt all dirty," She practically purred. She relaxed her grip on his tie to draw him just a little closer.

"I'm sorry, Nami-san, I promise I'll get it cleaned for you or buy you a new one, or -" Sanji started to babble. Inside, Nami's smirked had turned into a full blown evil grin. She was going to get revenge for the years of uncomfortable sexual tension.

"You can just clean it right now, can't you?" Nami said.

"Wi-with what, Nami-san?"

She smirked, "With what? Aren't you a cook? Don't you hate wasting food?"

She trailed a finger through the whipped cream on her midriff, and brought the delectable morsel to her lips to lick it off with a delicate swipe of her tongue. Sanji looked mesmerized, watching her finger. Nami noticed the hard swallow he took. It was the naked hunger and longing in her eyes that gave her the nerve to keep taunting him.

She leaned forward, and he shivered as her whisper caressed the delicate curve of his ear. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

If this is a dream, let me never wake up.

Sanji wasted no time dropping to his knees in front of Nami. He gently laved his tongue over her smooth skin, speckled with dots of sweet whipped cream, and felt both powerful and humbled when he felt her tremble under his lips. When he looked up, he knew the image of her biting her knuckle to keep herself from moaning would stay in his mind forever.

Slowly, he went lower. He kept waiting for her to stop him, to pull away and laugh it off as a joke, or even for his cat to walk over his face and wake him up. But when he looked up at her, when he went to put his hands on her thighs to brace himself, when he moved close enough that his stubble caught on her dirty silk skirt, he looked up again to ask permission, one last time. He wanted to hear her say yes.

She raised a challenging eyebrow at him. "I think the skirt might be beyond saving, Sanji-kun. I can feel it soaking through my skirt."

Accepting the implicit rebuff, Sanji started to move away from her, when she grasped the hem of the extremely short skirt and lifted it up to reveal more creamy thigh and the tiniest thong he'd ever seen.

"Please help clean me off."

Nami couldn't believe her own daring. She didn't know if it was the danger of being in a stuck elevator with him, or it was the bubbling sexual tension that she refused to acknowledge that was making her so brazen. If Sanji hadn't plunged his face between her thighs in the next second, she probably would've dropped her skirt again and run for the hills. Instead, he moved so fast, she didn't have time to think. In that moment, he had her right leg over his shoulder, his face buried between her legs, and one of her hands in his hair holding on to dear life.

She moaned when he gently stroked his tongue across the sensitive areas around her core, and tugged his hair in frustration as he studiously avoided touching the sensitive part of her that really wanted the attention. He teased her a little more by running his tongue across the fabric of her thong. She thought she might go crazy with lust if he didn't ... he didn't ...

Nami didn't have the words or the experience to know what he wasn't doing. She just knew that Sanji was fluttering around something explosive, like dancing on the edge of a volcano instead of just throwing himself in.

And then she felt him withdraw slightly, his fingers brush away her thong, and for a moment, she was entirely bare to him, and she had never felt more vulnerable. Sneaking a peak at the utter reverence on his face, though, she'd never felt so powerful. It was such a brief moment that she knew she'd remember for an eternity.

Then he leaned forward again, and she screamed.

Sanji felt the intense spasm run through the woman he was worshipping when he closed his lips around the little nub above her opening, and felt his own body shudder in response. She tasted like musk and honey; he'd never tasted anything so exquisite in his life. Tenderly, he lapped at that sensitive core, feeling each tremor and stifled cry against his lips like a benediction. He grinned at her moan when his fingers took over tormenting her clit so his tongue plunged into her pussy. Slowly, the rhythmic stroke of his tongue brought her hips involuntary bucking against his mouth, and he savoured her loss of control as the rhythm sped up, and her cries became more and more needy. When it reached a fever pitch and he felt her go rigid against his face, and the torrent on his tongue, he pushed her the edge, and eminently satisfied, moved back a little .

He was feeling extremely pleased with himself, until she pulled away from him, dropped her skirt, and moved as far away from him as the tiny elevator would allow. She had her face so close to the mirrored wall that he couldn't see anything but a confused look in her eyes and the tears starting that she tried to unobtrusively wipe away.

"Nami-san?" Sanji asked tentatively, "Are you okay?" He wanted so badly to touch her, to pull her into his arms and to reassure her everything would be okay, but somehow, comforting her felt more intimate than what they'd been doing just a few minutes ago.

"Yeah," She flashed him a fake smile without meeting his eyes. She didn't say anything else, and he didn't know what else to say. That silence stretched, and stretched and stretched, until Sanji felt like he would snap from the tension. He'd never felt so intimately connected to someone as when he had been worshipping Nami with his mouth, but now he could feel her rapidly slipping out of his reach. He'd never wanted to hold on so badly, and he'd never felt so helpless.

When the elevator finally jolted back to life, Nami quickly jammed the button for the next floor and got off before he could figure out what to say. He tried to follow her, but the doors closed in his face before he could. Frustrated, he finally did what he'd been threatening to do all night: he kicked the doorway.

The elevator shuddered to a stop again. Only this time, Sanji was left with only the taste of Nami on his tongue, a crushing sensation of having made a terrible mistake, and the half empty trifle bowl.

To be continued...

Please don't hurt me. The course of true love never did run smooth, am I right? (of couse, that's why we write fanfiction). This is a two parter, and in the next one, yes, they have proper sex and everything comes out fluff and rainbows. But I feel there's a bit of a dearth of Men on Women oral sex (in fanfiction and in life), and c'mon, if anyone's going to appreciate going down on a woman, it's Sanji. This actually goes back to my very first dirty fanfiction, Dirty and Late by Jane Drew (a lovely old KenKao Rurouni Kenshin Fanfiction, and I still love it), which is where the trifle bit comes from, so nods there.

Why was Sanji late? What's up with Pudding? What happened to the potluck? Why did Nami cry? What's our li'l eggplant going to do now (use his eggplant?)? Will they finally kiss? All that and more next time! See you then!