*POST-TIME SKIP*
Unexpected
It's not quite dawn but it's snowing. How could she ever forget that muted shush, brief as her time as a slave was, on that frozen hell that was Tequila Wolf? When she slides out of bed, the cold nips at her exposed skin, sending a shiver down her spine to her curling toes - reminding her too well of the bite of winter, of ice on her bare arms and sooty slush in her broken shoes.
Gooseflesh rises all up and down her arms. She pulls a robe on over her nightdress, tying it snugly and flipping up the fuzzy collar to block out the chill, like the act alone can push Tequila Wolf, the frostbitten feet, the bleeding hands, the crying children, out of her mind.
She thinks about the Thousand Sunny instead, and the expert hands that crafted her. A smile tugs at her lips at the thought of the shipwright's hands - large and bulky they may be, but nimble in their art - hands that had pulled her from the darkness that had almost snatched her away, from the family she had, finally, after all those lonely years, found.
Of course Franky insulated the ship well beyond anything she thought possible, but a ship will always have a draft, somewhere, somehow - and she's been on enough ships to know...
Robin frowns. Where are her thoughts today? She turns to wake Nami; sharing a warm beverage with her friend will surely cheer her.
But when she looks across to Nami's bed, it's already vacant.
She can't say she's surprised. Nami is a navigator without peer, and after two years of studying weather on a sky island, of course she must have sensed the change in air pressure, the drop in temperature, long before any of them. As it should be.
Robin slips her feet into her wooly slippers and opens the door. She's greeted by a stiff gust of frigid air that makes her shudder even under the thick fleece robe, and by an eery silence - the usual echoey hush of snow absorbing sound, of course, but also a marked lack of activity. No rowdy gamboling, no snowman-making, not even a snowball fight. Not a single squeal nor even a giggle to be heard throughout the whole snow-blanketed ship.
Robin stands in the doorway and puffs a few breaths out, watches the steam rise above her head, up into the desultory downward spiral of snowflakes, so tiny and gossamer upon her outstretched palms. Observing the evanescent flakes as they melt into her skin, she wonders if the boys - no, they are men now, really - have frozen to death in their hammocks. She makes a mental note to request a space heater from Franky, if he's survived, and maybe some extras for the men, though she's sure they wouldn't notice the cold even if their toes froze off.
She steps out, the unbroken shroud of powder by her doorway crunching under her slippers, and shuts the bedroom door behind her. Crunch crunch crunch all the way to the stairs, but there she pauses to stare at the deep bank of snow that has turned the lawn into a miniature sea of scintillating powdered death.
The two trees on the other side of the lawn are engulfed all the way up to their branches. The men will be fortunate to even escape their quarters, if they haven't frozen, though they all seem to be born under lucky stars and she doesn't doubt that Luffy or Zoro will fight their way out like bears digging themselves out of hibernation.
She almost laughs at the image of the two roaring as they barge through the snowdrift, but she has no intention to plow her way through chest-deep powder. Instead, she crosses her arms, sprouts a row of arms from the side of the gunwale, and hops across to the afterdeck.
There's a light on in the kitchen and Robin hopes Sanji has a pot of coffee brewing, because she needs a hot mug before she withers up in this bitterness -
Withers. Oh, her flowers. She changes course, sprouting a string of arms from the outer wall of the dining hall. She clasps the proffered hand and tries to ignore the chilly wind that cuts under her robe as the arms pull her to the upper deck.
Her legs sink into three feet of snow. Her feet are instantly, irrevocably frozen, and she grits her teeth against the icy knives stabbing her bare legs and crosses her arms for a third time. There's no time for delicacy or mercy, not with her slippers soaking and her feet sure to fall off; an efflorescence of arms erupts from beneath the snow, hundreds of limbs surging up together into two long legs.
She stomps the snow out of her way, a narrow smile on her lips. She hears dishes rattle in the kitchen below, and a curse, muffled but vehement.
She hopes nothing broke. It would be terrible if Sanji cuts himself with a knife and bleeds to death while their doctor sleeps soundly behind a snow bank.
She'll be glad if she never sees a speck of snow again in her life.
She strides down the cleared path, past Usopp's covered pop greens bed, to her... flowerbed? There's an odd glass structure where her flowerbed is supposed to be.
As she draws nearer, though, her lips part around a breathy laugh - there is a greenhouse around her flowerbed, a little glass bungalow shielding her garden from these vile elements. She crouches before it and presses a chilled hand to a wavy translucent panel. There are lamps set in the ceiling and the light gives off a glowing heat like a cozy inglenook seat.
There's a little ribbon bow sitting on the roof - newly placed, if the light dusting of snowflakes is any indication.
"Robin!"
She looks up to answer Franky's ebullient call, but bites back her greeting with a chuckle (Robin does not snort) because the cyborg walks out of the library, his hulking body plowing through the snowdrifts without effort to her side, wearing a sleeveless jacket.
And no pants.
Robin stares, then lowers her eyelids, fluttering her lashes against her cheeks for just long enough to decide if this is reasonable snow attire.
For Franky, of course it is.
"Your coat is quite dashing with that speedo," she says by way of greeting, hiding a broadening smile behind a hand when she sees the deep flush in his face.
It is not the reddening of windburn.
"Why, it is pretty Suuuper, isn't it?" He yanks up the wooly collar of the jacket and strikes a pose, all bare legs and clanking metal arms. Robin wonders if he even has cold receptors in his skin.
"This is your work, am I correct?" She gestures to the greenhouse, and his face glows scarlet again.
"OWww, that's right. Surprise! Suuuper Happy Birthday, Robin!"
Robin stares for a moment, he has so far overshot her expectations. "Birthday?" she echoes, her eyebrows drawing together.
Franky kneels down beside her, but even kneeling his bulk shields her from the falling snow. "Right, I had a hard time deciding what to get you, but when Nami warned me about the weather shift, I knew - Robin... ? What's with that un-super face? You didn't think we'd forget, did you?" He grins that broad toothy grin, a little unsure around the edges.
Robin blinks, and finds that there are tears on her eyelashes. Franky goes from unsure to panicked in a heartbeat. "I'm sorry, Robin, it's not super at all, is it, I should have made something el - "
"Franky," she interrupts, a broken laugh tripping out with his name.
No, she could never have thought they would forget her birthday. Never. Because she had forgotten, and all those twenty-eight years flash before her eyes, lonely years, lonely birthdays - not days to celebrate her birth, but days to curse it. Why would anyone want to celebrate the life of a demon child?
But Franky. Those hands, those massive unwieldy hands are poised to embrace her should any tears fall.
"Please," she says, allowing a grin to break the mask hiding the turmoil within. "This is quite super enough."
His whole face brightens and now even his ears are glowing. "Then you like it? Are you sure you're alright?"
"I love it," she promises, pressing her hand to the glass again. "My flowers are safe. It's perfect."
Franky practically beams. She wonders if his circuitry will malfunction if he blushes enough, but she doesn't get the chance to find out. The hatch to the dining hall slams open and Nami pokes her head up.
"Robin!" she calls, her face lighting up when she sees Robin. "Happy Birth - " She squeals suddenly, as a hand stretches up and shoves her over. Luffy's head pops up next to the struggling navigator.
"Ro~bin!" he howls. Below, in the kitchen, she hears the others, hollering for her: "Robin!" "Robin-chwaaan~!" "Robin-san!" "Robin! Come in out of the cold!"
The men, her men, her family.
Nami elbows Luffy in the face. "Robin, come on down. We have coffee ready for you and breakfast is almost done. Sanji-kun even made coffee cake!"
Who would want to celebrate her life?
"And presents!" Luffy shouts, or tries to, his voice muffled by Nami's elbow in his cheek.
"Presents!" Chopper's squeak chimes in from below.
Everyone.
Robin's eyes sting and it's difficult to breathe, but somehow she manages to laugh as Franky scoops her up to sit her on his shoulder. She wraps her arms around his head, careful not to muss his special crane-styled hairdo.
Nami and Luffy grin up at her as their cyborg carries her to the hatchway, their enthusiastic cheers mingling,
"Happy Birthday!"
-x-
Furanky's Tumblr Frobin Week: Day 4
Originally posted: April 11th, 2013
Prompt: Unexpected
Words: 1,643
