Unconditional
For as long as Nami as known, things have a price. Certainly the price tag may not necessarily specify belis (it may be a peek down her top for instance, sometimes just a few sultry words) but a price there is. This point was driven deep into her soul by the price placed on her home: one hundred million belis though it was later paid by the blood of her and Luffy among many others.
So it was with great suspicion that she began to try to unravel the enigma that was their foul-mouthed, stylishly dressed, ladies man cook. She thought he would tire of endlessly showering her with treats, snacks and praises after she'd made it clear that she had no intention of reciprocating his affections, in fact she was more than willing to exploit them on more than one occasion. Yet he didn't stop.
She wouldn't have paid as much attention to him if that was the extent of his attentions, if it was merely limited to superficial appreciation and a few drinks when he had leisure time. After all, he extended this courtesy to all the ladies he encountered, even a few that weren't quite lady-like. But when she realized that much of his attention was dedicated to her during the heat of battle, then she began to wonder. No doubt Zoro or Luffy would have come to her aid had she needed it but Sanji actively looked out for her, for opportunities to come to her defence. At times it would even seem that he paid more attention to her battle than his own. And the injuries that his long, strong legs had sustained for her now numbered more than the fingers on both hands.
Nami couldn't understand. That Sanji's devotion to her had no price tag was a fact entirely beyond her comprehension. He'd never asked her for so much as a used tissue much less a date. He wasn't doing it in the hopes of sleeping with her (although she knew he wouldn't object to the concept), he wasn't doing it for a favour in return. He was doing it simply because she existed. As though he thought her existence made the world a better place. And the thought made Nami smile almost tenderly.
She gently pushed open the door to the kitchen and peered inside. Inside, Sanji was intently icing a magnificent cake, in preparation for Usopp's upcoming birthday. He didn't hear Nami approaching until she was almost directly behind him so he didn't have time to conjure up a new extravagant title for her or start noodling. He was just Sanji, just the way she liked him.
"Ah, Nami-swan, what can I do for…"
He was cut off by a pair of soft, warm lips on his. The spatula clattered to the floor. At first Nami could only taste sweetness, from the icing he had just made. But as she probed deeper, she began to taste Sanji, a musky, spicy yet mellow taste that spoke of the man behind the flowery compliments, the heart eyes and the noodle dances, the man that could love and respect her.
She pulled away when she began to fear that Sanji would faint from lack of oxygen. Fortunately he had begun to recover from his state of sheer shock and his lips curved up into a soft smile. His blue eye shone like the sky or the sea, she never had been able decide which but knew that she'd never be able to (or want to) escape from that blue eye and the eternity it promised. She pulled him into a soft embrace.
"Thank you, Sanji."
Hello!
I've been a long-time reader of but this is my first time writing. If you liked what you read or would like to berate me for my lack of creativity or whatever, please drop a review!
Thank you for reading,
Tiramisu30