A/N:

Am I late? Yes. As late as last time? No!

Is the title inspired by the Cheetah Girls? Blame CC, who we love for nudging me out of hiding.

Confetti all around. Enjoy this sort of short but emotionally packed chapter from Nami's POV!

Nami considers herself a lucky person.

Well, okay— not in the way that trouble seems to hone in on her friends like a vengeful homing pigeon.

It's more that she has earned her fair share of obscene wealth for her age, and now the universe has turned around to wag a disapproving finger at the methods she'd used.

Probably.

That's probably why they do not make it to the gas station.

Merry dings balefully at her, screaming to be fed flammable liquid.

Sanji hurries to park at the roadside as he curses in several different languages.

He whacks the steering wheel. "Fuck you."

"I'm telling Usopp you did that," Robin says.

"Fucking— really?!" He twists around to glare at her. "He regularly bashes his entire goddamn head into the horn and you're worried about a light smack?"

She hums. "You're right. Your hands are too delicate to do much damage."

"These hands feed you."

She closes her book with a snap. "I ate a Poptart for dinner last night."

"Was that your normal-person dinner or your 'I've Been Reading Until 2AM and Can't Call This Breakfast' dinner?"

Blue eyes narrow, amused but unwilling to show it. "Hmm," she non-answers.

Nami snorts, turning to look at him with a playful smirk. "Oh, definitely the second one."

Hope flares up behind his eyes, big smile directed at her for the first time in days, and Nami's stomach contracts like one-two-fucking-ouch—

She turns to grab the gas can, heaves the door open, and doesn't let herself think about it. Just starts walking at the roadside toward the next gas station without a word.

The fading rage toward Sanji and Hancock isn't quite gone but it's not strong enough to scream at him the way she should. Doesn't hate Hancock's stupid, gorgeous-beautiful-ethereal fucking face like she should.

Footsteps clomp up behind her.

"Nami."

She refuses to acknowledge them.

"Come on, Princess, this—"

The nickname makes her whirl around, a scolding finger pointed toward his face. She pretends his flinch doesn't bother her, that her hand isn't shaking with rage at herself for becoming something he fears.

They stare for a tense moment.

His shoulders drop, visibly forcing himself into a casual posture.

"So..." Sanji rubs at the back of his head, sheepish. "Did you miss me?"

The question feels like a mockery, dashing the sympathy she'd felt as her lips twist into a wry smile. "With every knife so far."

A weary sigh and then— "We should talk."

Obviously, but when have they ever done the obvious thing regarding each other?

"I dunno," Nami says, avoiding his eyes, but she drops the gas can beside her in silent acquiescence. "Should we?"

"You left me on the roof of the van, Nami!"

"What's your point?"

"I know you're still beyond pissed. I said some shit I really shouldn't have, back at the hotel."

She inhales sharply at the admittance, deciding to be fair enough to shoulder her half of the blame. "Okay. I did, too. But did you mean it?"

Sanji tilts his head in silent question.

Nami's arms tighten across her chest, and she finally faces him. "Do you really think I'm just some penny-pinching, stone-cold bitch?"

He hesitates a few seconds too long, gnawing at his lip for something to do other than smoke.

She huffs. Unbelievable. Her voice takes on a wobbly quality as she starts back toward the van and spits, " Fuck this. You're on your own."

Robin bobs in place before trailing after her like a shadow, though Nami knows her best friend well enough to know she's probably staring pleadingly back at their idiot friend, silently screaming, 'Fix this!'

She has to be. Nami can't find it in herself to believe Sanji would lunge for her arm the way he does otherwise, pulling her back to where she'd been standing. Because Robin has her trust. Robin always has her best interests at heart, would move mountains to keep her happy. Just the way Nami will for her, and just the way Sanji has proven he will not .

"No!" he shouts. "That's not..."

Nami doesn't bother to shake him off, pivoting on her heel to shoot him a teary, exasperated look. Enough games. "You know what? It's fine. At least we're not pussyfooting around it anymore."

Robin inhales sharply as she veers around Sanji to retrieve the abandoned gas can, like she can hardly believe Nami's finally outright said it.

"Stop putting words in my mouth!" Sanji lets her go now that he has her attention. "Sure. You come off that way sometimes, but it doesn't mean that you are. "

"What does that even mean? I'm the best of both worlds? Everyone thinks I'm a bitch, yet I'm somehow not ?"

Sanji smiles despite the way she snarls. "If that's how it makes sense to you, then yeah."

His soft expression startles her into dropping her fury. "Sanji..."

"Because you're overprotective to a fault, and one of the most intelligent fucking people I've ever met." He reaches for her hands this time, taking one in each of his.

"Sanji." Her breath stalls in her lungs, waiting with the rest of her for whatever comes next.

And she notices the almost resigned smile on Robin's face in the background as she watches them, shoulders twitching for the way her hands are clasped tightly behind her back. Something in Nami twinges curiously at the sight of it, puzzled by her cold expression.

"But," Sanji pulls her attention back to him, voice grim, yet still so gentle it feels misplaced. Gentle isn't a word she'd ever choose to describe their dynamic, or Sanji himself. "But you don't trust easily like I do. And even though I get why, I can't agree with it."

The air she'd saved leaves her in a rush. "What are you trying to—"

He unlinks one hand from hers, holding it up to stop her. He doesn't rejoin them, and it feels like the beginning of loss. "Just like I understand why money is a big deal to you, which I agree even less with. And I'm not saying you don't enjoy helping people, but you can't put those things aside in the same way that they never even cross my mind."

Nami's stomach drops, starting to get where Sanji is going with this. She stops herself from gripping on tighter, from showing how much she wants to dig her claws into their crumbling connection before it disintegrates. Behind him, Robin's arms have gone slack, mouth open the slightest bit.

Nami mirrors her shock. "Are you trying to... break up with me?"

Never mind the fact that they weren't together to begin with.

Sanji does a combination of a shrug and a nod, eyes trailing away from her even as his thumb ghosts along the top of her hand. And, holy shit, that hurts . Deep in her heart and the corners of her mind that he's always taken up, it hurts.

She rips her hand out of his. Because why should he get to comfort her when he's the one lighting her on fire from the inside out? She clenches her fists, anger bubbling to the surface. Why should he get to have even a smidge of her in this moment when she gets to keep none of him?

That's reserved for Hancock, apparently.

"I LIKED YOU, YOU ASSHOLE!" Nami shouts, in a tone that leaves no possible room for misinterpretation of exactly what 'like' means. Her shoulders heave with the force of her breathing. "And I know… I know I haven't always been good at showing it, or… or letting you in. But I liked you , Sanji."

She doesn't want to. She doesn't want to be this jealous, petty girl that Sanji seems to lure out of her. And after he stomped on their friendship and all but spat on her faith in him, she shouldn't like him. Maybe she doesn't, after all, because part of her truly hates part of him . Her heart and brain disagree very much on the question of what she can be with Sanji.

Logic has always been louder than emotion when it comes to shielding her heart.

"I know." Sanji finally looks at her, guilty. "I think I loved you."

A quiet laugh escapes her. Too little, too late . "Hey, me too." Until he left with Hancock. Until five minutes ago. "But I can't anymore," the words quiver out, as much a realization as they are a fact. "I trusted you, and you left. And now every time I look at you, all I can see is you walking away."

Sanji frowns. "I left because she needed help. It was never— no matter what we said before I left, that part wasn't personal."

" 'Cold-hearted, money-grubbing bitch,' Sanji. That's what you called me. How can that be anything but personal?"

Maybe it wasn't, to him, but it was to her. One step too far, one time too many. And even understanding that they're both going to abandon this dying, unspoken thing they've only just stopped dancing around, she has to know.

"What does she have?" she asks through the tears gathering in her eyes. "What does she have that I don't? We've been together since we were ten and I— I thought—" Wrong. She'd thought wrong, obviously. She wipes her eyes because she's strong, a big girl, and she won't cry here. "Is it the damsel in distress thing?"

Nami never needed saving. Worked damn hard to make sure she never needed saving. Because she's known since Bellemere's death that the people she's supposed to be able to count on would never come save her.

So she just didn't. Nami saves herself.

"She won't need saving forever," she warns. "What, then, Sanji? Will you walk away from her, too?"

He shakes his head. "It's not the same thing. It's not even about Hancock anymore. I'm not fucking blind, okay? I know that's going nowhere, and lately I've been—" His cheeks darken in a blush, head shaking like it'll clear whatever thought he just had. "It's not important. It's just that she wasn't... you."

What? She flinches internally, trying to decide if that means it's easy for him to walk away from her . "What?" she echoes out loud.

Sanji hesitates, then sighs loudly, gesturing back and forth between them. "This? Me and you, Nami? We don't fucking work like that. Opposites don't always attract. Sometimes people just aren't— good for each other."

Oh, she thinks, inexplicably relaxing. Oh, thank fucking god.

Because she's almost relieved to hear that. She prefers pretty much anything over what she'd first assumed. If she'd been right, she doubts she could ever trust him again. And no matter how much it hurts to kill the piece of her heart that calls to him, that wants things to be different, she can do it. Because it's about being strong enough to let go. Given some time to convince all of the possessive parts of her, she can... accept this.

Right?

"Nami?" Sanji calls, making her blink back to the present.

She takes a moment, letting it sink in, considering his words. And then she sighs, smile bitter. "It's never going to work, huh?"

"Not unless we're both willing to exhaust ourselves trying to change our core beliefs."

Nami nods, pushes it aside, and takes a deep breath. "Then... I'm sorry for slapping you. And getting Zoro and Franky to strap you to the roof of the van."

"Yeah, that was really fucking mean."

She punches his shoulder with a laugh, then pauses, mulling the words over in her head before deciding screw it, this is weird enough. "Too bitchy for you?" She prides herself on there being only a little uncertainty in the question, and none in her voice.

After looking gobsmacked for a solid five seconds, Sanji rolls his eyes. "Oh, so now we're fucking joking about it? We're past the gross, stifling awkwardness that goddamn fast?"

She shrugs. "As long as it's obvious you're joking, then yeah... we're good."

She lies so well it almost tastes like the truth.

Almost.

A round of applause makes them both jump.

"Congratulations on finally communicating without maiming each other," Robin drolls, usual smile bent to one side in a smirk as she continues to clap.

Nami had forgotten she was there. And that? That is one of the biggest reasons she needs to let go of this. Because Sanji takes up so much of her that there just isn't room for anyone else. Robin deserves better than that. Nami deserves better than that.

It's a half-second late, but she straightens and looks offended like she's expected to. "We're not that bad!"

Robin crosses her arms, hip cocking to one side. "Except you very much are. It took you years to confront this."

Heat crawls up to Nami's cheeks, even as she pouts. The more sarcastic, bold side of Robin has always flustered her for reasons she can't pin down.

"I really am glad I wasn't maimed," Sanji admits, staring into the distance like he can see the alternate version of this conversation. "It makes Nami way too happy."

Except it doesn't. It never has, and that he thinks that is another chisel picking away at what's left of the maybe-them that clings to her heart. A flake of it falls away, and it hurts, but it also makes her feel just a little bit freer.

"The same can be said for the rest of us, too," Robin murmurs. "Especially Zoro."

Sanji scowls. "Yeah, well, fuck Zoro."

Robin tilts her head. "Perhaps you should rephrase that, because I don't think dick is on the menu for either of us."

Sanji's eyes go wide, throat working as he seemingly chokes on nothing. "N-nope, definitely not, hell no—"

Nami claps a hand over her mouth, muffling the, "Holy shit!" that escapes before she can stop it.

"Oh?" Robin's eyes flare like she's just read a particularly interesting sentence in one of her books. "Way to sell it, Casanova."

The snort that preludes Nami's laughter is monstrous, and she's just— she's so glad Robin is here to diffuse the awkward tension that's left. Robin stares, smirk lifting into a gentle smile that Nami can only grin in response to. Her eyes flicker toward Sanji, caught up in his own laughter, and she barely stops the sigh from escaping at the all-but-physical throb in her chest.

Another flake, another ache. She beats away the ghost of years-old feelings.

It's going to be a long process.

I don't know how y'all are feeling, but that was the gayest straight thing I've ever written.