I never thought I'd write a SanNam, but I've been thinking about them a lot lately and I decided to explore their characters. I'm glad I did; I like them both much better now. Here's the result.

I don't own One Piece.

Eye of the Beholder

Sanji stepped lightly down from his hammock, skirting the rickety floorboard in the middle of the dark room as he silently left the men's cabin. He shut the trapdoor beneath him and headed over to Nami's mikan grove for his early morning smoke. The horizon cast only the dimmest of lights over the Going Merry, shading the trees in blue and black. He walked in between them and took a long pull on his cigarette.

He was surrounded on all sides by the waxy, dark leaves and the pale orbs of the mikans, and he sat, leaning against one of the trees. Exhaling, he watched the smoke curl up into the iron sky. As the last wraith of smoke disappeared, he pulled a small wooden rectangle out of his pocket. He turned it in his fingers, and its mirrored side reflected his face. He took another long, pleasurable lungful of smoke and let it go. It twisted in indecipherable patterns against the leaves until it was dispersed by the sea breeze.

He fingered his cigarette in one hand and the mirror in the other. Taking a slow, sweet, dragging breath, he stubbed the newly lit cigarette out on the clean wooden boards of the Merry. His hand shook slightly, as it always did when he held the mirror. Or maybe it was just the chill dawn air.

He lifted the mirror to eye level, and used his other hand to delicately sweep his smooth blond bangs behind his ear. He peered carefully into the mirror with his right eye, devouring every detail, relishing it. It was probably sick to derive so much pleasure from seeing something like this, but Sanji didn't even care anymore.

His left eye was a pit. It wasn't bloody or inflamed, but raw, shiny scars showed where he had torn at it when the defect had been mangled and new.

He hated it. It kept him from ever being close to a lady, because when anyone saw it they were sure to run away screaming, or at the very least be creeped out. That wouldn't just ruin Sanji's chances with the lady, it would tear at his heart. He could hear the mocking voices even now.

"A thief took your eye?"

God, he hated that woman. She hadn't been a kawaii lady, not by a long shot. Just some weirdo who decided it would be fun to take his fucking eye and use fucking vitriol for fucking eyedrops. Whatever. What was done was done. At least she hadn't killed him like she had the rest of his family. At least he'd survived to get a job helping out in a ship's kitchen, and met Zeff. That at least was good.

Sanji poked his finger into the pit and wiggled it around, sending scalding rivulets of pain through his body. He shivered. Ite…

He stood, let his bangs fall back over his eye, and stepped outside of the grove. The pearly dawn was just beginning to color the mikans orange as he strode into the kitchen, washed his hands with hot water, and unlocked the fridge. He rifled briefly through the meat locker before choosing bacon for that morning. He had to start the meat first because there needed to be extra quantities of it for his captain.

Next came fruit. Thanks to their recent vacation at a tropical summer island, he was well stocked with plenty of delicious fruits, so he decided on a fruit salad of kiwi, pineapple, and banana.

As Sanji chose their other breakfast items for the day (waffles, scrambled eggs, and biscuits with jam), he whistled a jaunty tune in the hopes that Nami would wake up to the happy sound and the good smell of his cooking. Of course, it would be lovely if Robin did too.

Sadly, the first to be roused was Usopp. He came marching in and seated himself at the table. Like he's a friggin' king of something. Next came Chopper, hooves making their usual chwih chwih sound as he trotted in. Soon after them came Zoro, carrying a still half-asleep Luffy whose arms were wrapped around his neck. They had a bit of difficulty sitting down. And no wonder, mused Sanji. I could hear Luffy moaning on the deck from my hammock.

"I'm going to wake up Nami-swan and Robin-chwan." Sanji announced. "Luffy, you aren't allowed to eat anything. Marimo, he's not allowed to eat anything. Usopp and Chopper, Dipshit's not allowed to let Luffy eat anything. Got that?"

"'kay," murmured Luffy, falling asleep again in Zoro's lap.

"Marimo? You got that too?"

"Yeah, whatever, shit-cook."

"Good." Sanji left the kitchen and knocked lightly on the door of the ladies' cabin. "Good morning, Nami-swan and Robin-chwan!" he called. "I've been up since before dawn making a delicious and special breakfast for your enjoyment."

"We're up already, cook-san," said Robin from inside the cabin. The door opened and out came the ladies. Sanji whole-heartedly approved of the spring climate, especially because it meant that Nami was wearing a very low-cut burnt-orange tank top with her dark blue miniskirt.

He escorted them down to the kitchen, where Luffy and Zoro were making out and Usopp and Chopper were having a conversation. (or rather trying to; even Sanji had to admit that Luffy and Zoro kissing was kind of a turn-on.) Sanji gave them a kick to the face each, which neither dodged, since their eyes were closed. They went flying over the table and crashed into the wall, but soon recovered. Once they were settled in their places, Nami and Robin sat, and Sanji declared breakfast begun.

After the meal, he wistfully watched Nami retreat to her room. He wasn't watching her curves, though they were beautiful and perfect. He was watching her hair. It was his favorite part of her. He loved the way it curved in at the nape of her neck, the way it shone in the sun, the way its bright mikan-orange strands lifted and fell in the ocean breeze.

He sighed and turned back into the kitchen. Robin had already moved to her favorite deck chair to read her book, and Luffy had dragged Zoro off somewhere to do god knew what. Sanji booted Usopp and Chopper and closed the door behind him.

As he washed the dishes, his thoughts were all with the orange-haired navigator. He wondered what she thought of him. He was never really sure. For that matter, he wasn't sure whether she knew that he really loved her. She might think that his constant attentions were only paid for her pretty face and long legs.

If she knew… Sanji shuddered to think what Nami would do if she found out how repulsive his hidden eye was. He pressed his bangs with the heel of his palm, feeling the empty socket throb through its soft blond disguise. He shook his head as if to clear it and returned to the dishes. Fuck. A cup tinkled on the floor, shattering.

He knelt to sweep it up. I need a smoke. He stood and dropped the pieces in the trashcan before moving to the door and putting his hand on the knob.

It swung open on its own.

"Sanji-kun, I'm thirsty. Could you get me a drink, please?" asked Nami.

"Right away, Nami-swan!" he gushed, before mentally reprimanding himself. That's the real reason she'll never fall for you- you're such an easy sell. He set about mixing orange, lime, and a few drops of a sweet, sun-colored liqueur that was Nami's special favorite. He put the whole on ice in a tall, thin-stemmed glass that fogged up with tiny drops of water thanks to the heat from the sun beating down outside. He gave the drink to Nami, lost in thought.

"Sanji-kun? Are you all right? You look preoccupied," said Nami, seating herself at the table.

"I'm fine, Nami-swan. Don't worry about me," he replied. How dumb can you get, Sanji? 'Don't worry about me?' Why would she worry about you? What the fuck? Then he realized that Nami, amazing Nami, was sitting at his table, idly sipping her drink and tapping her foot on the floor.

"It's warm in here, Nami-swan. It's probably nicer on the deck, with the breezes," he said.

"Don't think you can get rid of me that easily, Sanji-kun."

"I'm not trying to get rid of you, Nami-swan. I just thought that you would be happier outside."

"Quit it with the 'swan,' okay, Sanji-kun? I came in here to have an actual conversation, not do some half-assed flirting that neither of us cares about."

"I am more than happy to discuss whatever you want to discuss, Nami-san, my exquisite orange-haired siren. I am entirely at your command, oh- Itetetetee…" Sanji rubbed the bump on his head. With a straight face, he replied, "Of course, Nami-san."

"All right, so, Sanji-kun, it's like this," Nami hid her face in her hands. "God, this is awkward. Okay, I'll just say it. You're in love with Usopp, right?"

"What the fuck?" Oops. There goes my resolution to not swear at ladies. I hope she doesn't think I'm vulgar- wait, WHAT THE FUCK? Usopp? Mr. Straight-As-A-Sniggle-Woph? Or whatever the fuck he's talking about these days. Me in love with him? There's absolutely no way she legitimately thinks that. No way. No way.

"You mean you're not in love with Usopp?" Nami raised an inquisitive orange eyebrow. Sanji could hear her foot tapping faster than ever beneath the table. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-

"Why are you nervous, Nami-san? My not loving Usopp shouldn't make you nervous. Besides, I'm in love with you. Aren't I always telling you you're a paragon of virtue?" Sanji could feel his heart thudding as fast as Nami's sandal. Is she- could she be? Nervous because of me? Sanji, you're kidding yourself. There's no way.

He could hear Zoro's voice in his head. Dumb ero-cook. Why would Nami ever fall for you? He would never tell Zoro that he really loved Nami. Even though, deep down, Sanji knew Zoro didn't hate him, the two had too much antagonism built up to have the open talks they had had back when he had first joined the crew. Back then, Zoro had been distraught beneath his stoic surface. Sanji would never forget the longing and confusion in his eyes as he explained everything he loved about Luffy to the cook. They had fought, but it had just been to relieve stress, just a show of bravado over their nakamaship. Then Luffy had told Zoro how he felt, and they had gotten together, and now Sanji was all pent up with nobody to talk to.

Shit. Say something, moron. Something cool and witty. Nami had stopped tapping her foot. She stood and walked to the door. Sanji moved to block her.

"Wait, Nami-san, I-" Sanji tripped over his own feet and crashed to the ground, taking Nami out as he fell. He flung out an arm to catch himself, but only succeeded in bringing down the table on top of them. The dust settled, and Sanji realized that he was in a very compromising position. He was trapped under a table with Nami.

He could have kicked the off immediately, but given that Nami was lying on top of him, her warm face pressed into his, that might have been tricky, especially considering the long, bare legs tangled in his. Sanji felt his cheeks and ears glowing like coals. Nami shifted, and he felt a throb in his lower half before the pain from his head took over.

His eye. Fuck, it hurt. It hurt like it was being branded from the inside with a searing iron stamp. Sanji arched his back to shake off the pain, but it wouldn't leave, kept consuming –fuck!- consuming him like a thousand hungry, red-hot needles. He could hear Nami asking what was wrong over the angry rushing in his ears. Nami-san… He forced back the pain to a manageable level, urging control into every inch of his body. Miraculously, it subsided, and he opened his eye. Nami was blushing furiously, lovelier than ever.

"Sanji-kun?"

Sanji extracted one of his hands from between their waists and reached up to his head, but where blond bangs normally covered his face his fingers touched instead raw, exposed skin.

"Nami-san…" He pleaded with his good eye. Don't say anything, Nami. Pretend it's not there, pretend your finger didn't end up in it when we fell, anything, talk about the weather, don't hate me… He winced as she opened her mouth.

"Sanji…" she said softly, disbelievingly. "If I'd known…"

You'd have despised me. You'd have thought I was even more of a freak than you already do. If you'd known… But now you know, and- oh god! –what are you going to say?

"Sanji-kun, what- I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask," Nami bent her head so he couldn't read her expression, and a few locks of her hair brushed across Sanji's face. He swallowed. The table seemed to get heavier as he shifted to avoid contact with her, but only succeeded in bringing them face-to-face once again.

Now, if ever, he thought. If she rejects me now, which she will, I'll just make myself stop loving her. I will. And it'll all be over, and I won't ever have to feel this way again.

"Nami?" She was silent. All right, then. It'll be easier this way, if she doesn't talk and make things difficult.

"Nami, I love you," he said softly, slowly. It was hard to force the words out, as if he were speaking through a mouthful of honey. He swallowed again and his throat tightened. There it is, then. She isn't responding. That's a rejection, or as good as one. "That's all right. I know you don't love me, I just… I guess I just wanted you to know," he continued miserably. That isn't what I wanted to say at all.

Nami looked as if she were about to recoil, then recovered herself and smiled wryly. "You're not anything like this most of the time. I should spend time alone with you more often."

Sanji stared at her in disbelief. "Aren't you going to reject me? I mean, I'm a freak. Damaged goods. Worthless."

"When did I say we were an item? This is a rejection, Sanji-kun. I'm just saying that maybe you aren't going after me the right way." Nami wasn't looking at his face, at his eye. She was smiling, but her eyes kept flicking elsewhere, as if she couldn't stand the sight of him.

Sanji felt a surge of irritation, and his feelings swung around. If she was going to reject him, why raise his hopes? Since when was Nami the center of the world? His constant attentions gave her no right to treat him like this! And anyway, she had seen lots of blood and kept herself under control. Why so much repulsion over an old wound?

Sanji didn't bother to replace his disheveled bangs. He raised his hand again, grabbed Nami by the chin, and brought her startled face down into his to kiss her savagely on the mouth. He would show her! He brought his hand around to the nape of her delicate neck and ran it possessively up through thick orange hair that tangled around his long, searching fingers.

Nami's dark eyes widened in shock, and she struggled for a minute, arching her back before relenting. Sanji felt her chest pressed on his as she began slowly, hesitantly, to return the kiss, lips slightly parted as the warmth of her breath mingled with his. He found himself able to kick the inconvenient table off after all, and brought his free hand up to rest on the back of her waist as the table crashed into a wall. Sanji pressed Nami to the floor as he switched their positions. His bangs hung down, brushing her forehead as he bent down to kiss her again.

"Sanji-kun," she whispered, smiling a little, "Everyone will find us if you break the furniture so loudly."

"Then let's lock the door."

-OWARI-

So there you go. A SanNam. Hopefully this came off okay; I can't let Sanji be seme, as he wants to be, because of course Nami wouldn't stand for it. I prefer Nami manipulating Sanji into thinking he's the dominant figure, but hey, whatever floats your boat

Anyway, read, review, and I'll reply! It makes me happy!