Disclaimer: One Piece does not belong to me.

So I've been putting the occasional one shot one tumblr. For organizational purposes, I'm going to start collecting them here :)

This was based on the prompt: "Fuck I feel like I got hit by a car… Wait I did? And it was your car?"

It was a lot of fun :)

Oh What a Night

Arms aching, Zoro leaned forward, tossing first his sabre and then his sweat-soaked shirt into his bag. Fencing practice had been particularly grueling that evening – going an extra hour in preparation for the tournament coming up that weekend. Not that he minded the extra practice. The tournament was a big one – and he planned on winning.

Shrugging the bulky gym bag over his shoulder, Zoro stepped into the night. The sidewalk was aglow beneath a streetlamp's pale, artificial light. Each breath emerged as a cloud of steam. The t-shirt he'd changed into did little to guard against the evening chill. There was a jacket buried somewhere in his gym bag, but he didn't reach for it. The brisk air provided a numbing reprieve for the aching muscles in his arms.

As he walked the well-traveled path between the gym and his apartment, he thought of the tournament. Two days. Two more days until he'd have a chance to prove once and for all that he was the best fencer in his district division. He'd been recognized as the best fencer on his college team for some time now. But now he was going to have a chance to go up against the best of the best. This was a competition that he'd been preparing half the year for. And now it was less than forty-eight hours away. To say he was excited would be an understatement.

He imagined the bright, focused arena light and the feel of the floor, firm and unforgiving beneath his feet. His fingers flexed, the feeling of his sabre's worn handle engraved as muscle memory.

Engrossed in recollection, he crossed the street. Squealing tires tore him from the memory. Looking up, he was blinded by headlights.

With her windows rolled down and the brisk evening air whipping about her hair and face, Nami twisted the knobs on her dash, cranking up the music to compete with the wind's billowing reverberations. Music sufficiently raised, she reached down. Tossing her head back, she took a long swig of the lukewarm beverage. This was her third cup of coffee that evening. Her day, half of it spent at her internship at a high volume, high stress banking and finance firm, the other half, working on a twenty page project – complete with relevant research and financial graphics – all due before the weekend, demanded caffeine.

Tonight she was going to have to analyze a fifty page document of consumer data. The thought of the sheer amount that she would have to do the following day to complete the project induced a cringe. Pressing down on the gas, the yellow lines flashed by before her headlights. If she started working when she got home, maybe she could finish the consumer report by one. Maybe.

Sipping at the drink, Nami reached once more for the dash and began idly switching between stations. Sure, the work might be killing her now; but it would all be worth it when she graduated next year. If everything went well, her internship would blossom into a fulltime job. With her grades, working for that firm – well for one thing, she certainly wouldn't have to worry about paying off her student loans for long.

Taking one last swig, Nami dropped the empty coffee cup back into its holder. She knew all too well how hard it was to get by without money. Throughout her childhood, she, Nojiko, and Bell-mere had lived day by day. She had watched Bell-mere struggle to provide for them, seen the daily strain wear on her mother.

Finally, she settled on a station. Glancing at the dim buildings that whipped by, Nami pushed back her windswept bangs. No. She didn't want to live that life again - all the more reason to work now.

Turning back to the road, her eyes caught a flash of movement. At first, it appeared as nothing more than a shadow on the dim street. Nami squinted. Oh shit. Slamming her foot down on the opposite pedal, she attempted to turn the wheel. The shadow was a person, and that person was directly in the path of her car. The music blaring from her speakers was drowned-out by the shrill squealing of tires. The person looked up as her headlights fell upon him. As her car slid, stopping too slow over the black pavement, she closed her eyes. There was a dull thud. And then silence.

Panting, her arms locked forward and hands white over the steering wheel, Nami cracked open her eyes. The pungent smell of burned rubber permeated the air. Fumbling with her seatbelt, she slapped a hand over her dash. The music cut abruptly off. The silence was nearly absolute. Seatbelt finally released, Nami stumbled from her car.

Her headlights lit the road, two still beams of brightness. At their center, directly in front of her car the figure lay sprawled on the road.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god."

Rushing forward, Nami dropped to her knees. She'd hit a guy. With her car. Was he okay? Was he breathing? Was he dead?!

From a cut just below his hairline, trickled a stream of blood. His lips curved down. His chest – Nami sagged in relief – his chest rose and fell with even breaths.

Heart pounding, Nami struggled to collect herself. She had hit him. But he was alive. Kneeling on the road, half-blinded by her own headlights, Nami jumped to her feet. What was she doing? She had just hit this guy! She needed to call for help. Her phone. Where was her phone?

She turned back to her car, only to halt at the sound of a groggy moan. Eyes wide, Nami turned around.

Rubbing his head, the green-haired guy slowly sat up. Eyes half-closed, he rolled his shoulders. His deep voice emerged in a mumble. "What the hell kind of a nap was that? Fuck, I feel like I got hit by a car."

Nami's mouth fell open. Clearly this guy was confused. She wondered how hard she'd hit him. Dropping back to her knees, Nami reached a hesitant hand towards him. "Heeeey. You alright there?"

Squinting an eye open, he stared. Blinking, his gaze shifted, moving from the bright headlights, to the asphalt beneath him, and finally, to her.

Laughing nervously, she tucked back her hair. "-about that – getting hit by a car-"

Frowning, he touched a hand to his head. "Wait, I did?" He looked once more between the headlights and her. "And it was your car?"

Nami's voice emerged as a squeak. "Ahaha-ha. Yes. Yes it was."

She was met by his incredulous stare.

"I'm so so sorry about that – and oh my gosh I still need to call an ambulance." Nami jumped to her feet. What was wrong with her? She had hit this guy with her car. He needed to go to the hospital.

Leaning into her car, she dug through her purse. When her hand at last closed over her phone, she scrambled backwards over the seat - and into a person. Nami turned to find herself staring at a chest. Green-haired guy's chest. Large hands settled on her arms, steadying her.

"You're standing up?!" Nami pushed his hands away, gripping the sides of his own arms as if she expected him to drop at any second – which she kind of did. "Sit down – lay down! I'm calling 911. Just hold on. An ambulance will be here soon."

She lifted her phone, but his hand settled over it. "Nah. No need." Shrugging, he grinned. It looked forced. As his eyebrows lifted, it shifted to a grimace. "No real damage done."

The stream of blood from the cut on his head flowed in a thin stream down the side of his face. At his jaw, the red stream curved, flowing down his neck. The neckline of his t-shirt was stained red. Nami stared. This guy needed to go to the hospital. He obviously had a concussion – the poor guy was clearly confused.

Pasting on a wide grin, Nami patted his hand. "There. There. You just sit down. I'll take care of everything." Pushing his hand away, she lifted her phone.

His hand closed over it. He was frowning. "I'm fine. Seriously, I don't need to go to the hospital."

Now she was starting to get annoyed. "I hit you. With a car. I'm calling an ambulance."

"And I'm telling you I'm fine! I don't need one."

Nami tugged her phone back. What the hell was wrong with this guy? His eyes shifted to the side. She followed his gaze. Still in the road, illuminated by her headlights, was a gym bag. Peeking out from its half-open zipper was what looked like a thin sword. No – not a sword – a sabre. A light bulb went off. This guy was on the college fencing team. They had a huge competition coming up that weekend. She should know – Luffy and Usopp had been talking all week about going to watch it. It involved fighting and swords – her friends had been intrigued to say the least.

Alit with this new knowledge, Nami's eyes shifted back to the guy in front of her. "You're on the fencing team." It wasn't a question. "This has to do with the competition this weekend, doesn't it?"

He didn't answer.

"You're seriously refusing to go to the hospital because you think – what – they won't let you compete or something?"

His silence was all the answer she needed.

"You're an idiot. I'm calling an ambulance."

Eyes wide, he held up his hands. "Wait. Come on, I'm standing up! I'm totally fine. Besides! You hit me. If anything, you owe me one."

Gaping, Nami opened and closed her mouth several times. She stood in silence, trying and failing to come up with a response to his accusation.

Stepping back, he grinned. "I'll be on my way then." Ambling back into the path of her headlights, he tossed the bag over his shoulder. "Try not to hit anyone else."

His walking away snapped her back into action. What if that hit to the head was worse than he let on? What if he suddenly dropped unconscious later? That would be on her. Standing in the night, Nami's mind spun wild conjectures. What if he died? It would be all her fault. Would they think it was a hit and run?

"Hold it!"

Not quite out of the headlight's glare, the green-haired man glanced over his shoulder, his expression wary.

"If you drop dead later, that's on me. If you won't go to the hospital, then you're coming with me. At the very least, I'm going to make sure you don't fall unconscious in the next few hours."

When he didn't move, Nami nodded to the car. "Get in. Or else I'm calling an ambulance – you'll give me no choice."

In the dim light, she watched his shoulders rise and fall. Dropping the gym bag back into his hand, he reluctantly turned. Scowling he marched back to the car. Glaring over the car's low roof, he yanked open the passenger door. He dropped heavily into the seat.

Nami gingerly opened her own door. Settling down carefully into her own seat, she watched him from the corner of her eyes. What had she gotten herself into? First she had hit someone. Now, said someone was in her car – and she was going to take him home. Swallowing, Nami started the car. "Um – try not to get blood on the seat."

The glare intensified.

Frowning, Nami turned the wheel, pulling carefully back onto the road. "Jeez, don't look at me like that. You try getting blood out of this type of fabric."

By the time she pulled in front of her apartment complex, the silence was unbearable. He had spent the rest of the trip scowling, arms folded tight across his chest. She had debated turning the radio back on, but had ultimately decided that it would likely only make things worse.

Clearing her throat, Nami forced a smile. "Alright, we're here."

He silently exited the car, closing the door firmly behind him.

Hugging a pile of thick folders to her chest, Nami led him up a narrow stairway. The complex itself was nice, but the stairs were a bitch to navigate – especially if a neighbor happened to be coming up or down in the opposite direction. Fortunately, they didn't run into anyone. Besides – she really didn't relish the idea of explaining exactly why she had a bloodied fencer with her.

Balancing the folders in one hand, she fumbled to get the key in the lock. Standing behind her, arms still crossed, the green-haired stranger didn't bother to help. Huffing, Nami pushed the door open. She flicked on a light with her elbow before dropping the heavy stack on a table.

Entering the compact space, the green-haired man looked around as if trying to get his bearings.

Nami gestured to the couch. "Sit down."

Leaving him in the living room, Nami went in search of some first-aid supplies. Usopp surely had a first aid kit stored somewhere. In the two years that they had been roommates, Nami had never known her bushy-haired friend to not be prepared. Sure enough, in digging through a bathroom cabinet, her search was rewarded with a small, white kit.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she found her guest had kicked off his shoes. Arms spread over the back of the couch, he leaned into the cushions. When he saw her, his arms dropped back to his sides. If anything, he seemed slightly embarrassed.

"I – uh – was just getting comfortable. If I'm going to be here a while."

"Don't worry about it." She glanced down at the cushions. "As long as you don't get blood on the couch, we're good."

Shifting forward, he tugged at his blood soaked collar.

Popping open the case, she sat down beside him.

Still fingering the bloodied material, he looked between her and the case. "What are you doing?"

"Your head is oozing blood. Since you flat out refuse to go to the hospital, you get my mediocre medical skill."

"Oh."

Rolling her eyes, she passed him several squares of cotton. "Here, use these to wipe up the blood. It's all over - from your forehead to your neck."

As he obediently wiped at the trail of red, Nami squired anti-bacterial liquid onto a new square. He was still wiping at his neck when she lifted it to his head. "This might sting."

Without further ado, she pressed the dampened fabric to the wound. Despite grimacing at the initial contact, the green-haired man didn't move. As she brushed over the wound, he stared resolutely ahead. His low voice betrayed only the slightest strain. "S'not bad."

Due to the light hitting him at an angle, half of his face was in shadow. In order to get a better view of the wound, Nami lifted her hand. Perhaps it was because she had done this sort of thing before – for both Luffy and Usopp and even sometimes Sanji – she automatically lifted her fingers to his face. Gently cupping his jaw, she turned his face to the side. If she noticed his nervous swallow at the act, she didn't think anything of it.

With her hand still on his face, Nami leaned forward. Peering closely at the nick on his forehead, she cleaned the wound in precise, careful movements. "I'm Nami by the way." Tossing the cotton into the trash, she grabbed another.

He cleared his throat. "Zoro – I'm Zoro." His eyes flicked towards her once before settling back on the wall.

Nami hummed as she continued to work on his head. "So you're a fencer huh? Any good?"

"I'm gonna win the tournament this weekend."

Nami lifted her brows. "So really good - or a hopeless braggart."

Zoro frowned. "I only brag if it's true."

Nami smiled. "Uh huh. Maybe I'll have to come to this competition and see for myself."

His lips twitched. "If you want. But I'll expect a home-made sign and some loud cheering. I mean, you did hit me with your car."

Nami didn't reply. But when she picked up a new square, she doused it with ant-bacterial liquid and pressed it firmly against the wound. He hissed, glaring from the corner of his eyes.

She smiled innocently. "I want to make sure it's clean."

"Sure you do."

When she finished the cleaning, she gripped his chin, guiding his face forward once more. His grey eyes met hers. Her fingers still on his chin, Nami froze beneath his gaze. With her hand upon him, she realized for the first time, the intimacy of their positions. Dropping her hand, she glanced away.

It wasn't until she was armed with gauze and bandages that she dared to look back. But his gaze was no longer upon her. As she methodically covered and taped the wound, his eyes shifted, taking in her apartment. His gaze settled on folders piled high on the table.

"So what do you do?"

Nami looked to the messy pile of folders. "Oh – I'm a student at the college too. Majoring in business with a minor in accounting."

Zoro whistled. "No wonder you were distracted enough to hit me."

Nami glared. This was going to real old, real fast. Having put the finishing touches on the gauze-encased wound, Nami dropped the white tape back into the first-aid kit. Rising she closed it with a snap.

"Alright. That should hold for now at least. Tomorrow you should stop by the campus health center and have someone re-do the bandages." Nami glanced to the kit in her hands. "I would give you this, but Usopp would kill me. He's big on always having a first-aid kit handy."

"Oh – then Usopp's your…" Zoro's voice trailed off.

Nami frowned, confused at what he meant. And then it hit her. "Oh! No! No, no, no. Nothing like that. We're just roommates. We've been friends forever."

"Ah." Zoro nodded. "So where is he then?"

"He's a student too – a mechanical engineer – loves to build things and tinker." As for where he was – that was a good question. It wasn't until she saw the discarded equation sheets pinned to his whiteboard that she remembered. He had a big project coming up too. He was likely still on campus. "I think he's still at school."

Zoro raised his brows. "What kind of car does he drive? Gotta keep an eye out for him too."

Nami seriously debated chucking the first-aid kit at him. But she didn't trust her aim – and there was the fact that he still might have a concussion. She restrained herself. Dropping the first-aid kit on the counter, she reached for her stack of folders. Heaving them up, she dropped them onto the coffee table in front of the couch. Settling herself on the floor, with the couch as a backrest, she prepared to work. She was interrupted by a cleared throat.

"Can I go now?"

Nami frowned over her shoulder. "No. I need to watch you for at least another hour."

Her reply was met with a groan. "Let me at least watch T.V. then."

Opening her first folder, Nami hemmed. "That would distract me. I've got a ton of work to get through." She nodded to a bookshelf across the room. "You can read though."

This was met by another groan. Nonetheless, she felt the couch shift behind her. Nami glanced up from a long list of data to see Zoro scrutinizing the shelf. At long last he pulled a book from the masses.

"That's a good one."

He dropped back onto the couch without reply.

And for fifteen glorious minutes, Nami worked in silence. It didn't last.

The book closed with a snap. "I have never been more bored in my life."

Nami gripped the latest folder. "I'm sorry for trying to make sure you don't die."

"Well I'm sorry you hit me with your car and are now holding me hostage."

Nami felt a very real and very volatile headache building behind her temples. Slapping the folder against the table she turned. "Look. I am sorry I hit you! It was an accident and I feel awful! I wanted to take you to the hospital, but you refused to go. So sue me for being worried!" The headache pounded in earnest. Cutting her rant short, Nami held a hand to her head. When she next spoke, her voice no longer had an edge. "And I have a ton of work to do. So could you just try to read?"

Rubbing her forehead, Nami turned back to the table. She was re-opening the folder when he finally spoke.

"It's not completely your fault. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was walking."

Torn between exhaustion, amusement, and derision Nami emitted a strange mixture of a sigh and snort. "Of course you weren't. Probably thinking about your damn tournament."

There was a pause. "Actually I was."

At that, she did laugh. She couldn't help it. Later, she would blame it on nerves and exhaustion. After a moment, he joined in with a low chuckle.

Leaning over her papers, she continued rubbing her head. "What an insane night."

She took his silence as agreement.

"Hey – since I'm going to be here for a while anyway, maybe I could help with that?"

She met his question with an incredulous stare. What was up with this guy? One second he was antagonizing her and the next he was offering his help. Nami was fully prepared to tell him to go back to the book, when her eyes landed on the long lists of consumer data. Maybe –

She snatched up a sheet. "Can you read this out loud? I have to compare the data and it will go a lot faster if I don't have to look between them."

He shrugged. "Sure."

His deep voice filled the room as he began reading over the long list of variables and numbers. As he did so, Nami read over the sheet in front of her, marking it as she went. When they finished that folder, they moved to another, and then another. It wasn't until the stack was dwindling and only several folders remained, that Zoro's low voice began to slow.

Nami's eyelids had grown heavier with the last several folders. Now, each blink stretched long. When the rumbling voice behind her quieted, soon replaced by soft snores, Nami closed her eyes. She would only rest for a minute. She leaned her head back against the couch. Just a minute and then she would wake up and take Mr. Fencer back home – wherever home was.

She awoke to the sound of a closing door. Her eyes snapped open. Dim light filtered in through the curtains. The back of her neck felt unusually warm and there was a strange pressure on her collarbone. Her head tilted up. The green haired man – Zoro – was sprawled across the couch. Laying on his back, his shoulder hung slightly off the edge. In the crook of his shoulder, between his arm and chest, her head had found its place of rest. His arm, rather than dangle from the couch, was wrapped around her upper chest. In his sleep, his fingers twitched upon her shoulder. Nami flushed red.

Usopp's high pitched voice, loud and surprised sounded abruptly from the doorway. "What in the world happened here?!"

At the sound, Zoro jerked up. At the sudden movement, the nearby trashcan was tipped and bloodied cotton strips spilled over the floor. Usopp, back from a night of studying, stared at the scene, his bleary eyes wide.

Nami closed her eyes and willed the universe to grant her a 're-do'. This was not at all how she wanted to start her morning.

Thanks for reading! If you can, leave a review and let me know what you think :)