TITLE: The Way to a Man's Heart

AUTHOR: endsoftime

PAIRING: ZoroxSanji

RATING: More of an R than anything, because I am hopeless. Bear with me, people. We'll get there eventually. And then we shall have ham.

NOTES: Not mine, yes yes, we already know that, what next? It's really more of the same. But enjoy regardless!

Chapter Four — Enlightenments on Two Mikans a Day

"Sanji…Sanji…"

A heavenly, musical voice crooned lovingly into his ear, coaxing him, drawing him from his thick darkness. He felt the blood flowing in his veins, his brain was slowly rousting itself. Unhurriedly. Why rush? The air was warm and fresh, and he felt light as a puff of cotton. And that voice still sang sweetly to him. This was a much better place. Better than where he'd been just moments before. It had just been a figment of his unconscious. Everything would be all right. He'd escaped the demons, and was now awakening to a better, brighter day.

"Sanji! Get up, now!" the lovely voice shouted in its own, lovely way.

The cook sighed contentedly. And to be woken by Nami-swan. Truly, there is no greater joy in life!

His eyes slowly cracked open, stung only momentarily by the waves of sun that soaked the deck of the Going Merry, until they settled on the perfect face of the navigator leaning over him, her silky tangerine hair forming the perfect frame for her delicate features.

"Sanji," she asked, "are you okay?"

He gave her another dreamy smile. "Certainly, Nami-swan! I've never felt better! But you can't imagine the horrendous dream I've had!"

Nami-san's thin eyebrow quirked slightly. "Do tell."

Sanji laid a hand dramatically across his eyes. "Oh, it was dreadful, Nami-swan! Surely such atrocities should never be uttered in your sweet ears!"

His Nami-swan snorted (in a very lady-like way.) "Try me."

"No, no, my dear goddess!" he protested. "As a gentleman, I could never condone such a thing! It was far too vile for one as fair as yourself!"

A gentle hand rested on his arm, and slowly but firmly pulled it away from his up-turned face. Nami-san was smiling with dangerous kindness. Sanji had seen this smile many times before; it was usually followed by something heavy being chucked at him…chucked with love, that is!

"Sanji-kun," she cooed with the same deadly sugar in her tone. "I am very interested in this dream of yours. Please tell me. It would make me very happy."

The overwhelming desire to please his Nami-swan ― as well as the unmistakable flash of violence in her eyes ― spurred Sanji into recounting his nightmare. Swiftly.

"It was truly gut-wrenching, my dear Nami-swan! It started wonderfully, though: I stood just there, against the railing, and suddenly you appeared, giving light and reason to my world once more!" Nami-san coughed slightly, but waved off his concern, telling him to continue. "Yes, well there you were, moving slowly towards me, smiling angelically! You were singing of your long-subdued love for me; how you had adored me as much as I adored you, but could never show your true affections for fear of rebuff!"

A new, more exaggerated coughing fit erupted from Nami-san, drawing Sanji's attention again. "Are you sure you're well, Nami-swan? I could get you a glass of water!"

"No, no, I'm fine!" she said, a pale blush touching her lush cheeks, her eyes bright. She must be flattered! Delighted, even! Perhaps his dream had been prophetic! "Please…snrk please c-continue ―" she broke off with another coughing fit which ― and Sanji was sure he merely imagined it ― sounded oddly like giggles.

Giggles of joy, no doubt

"Well, of course I was thrilled, and we drew near each other, faces angled, ready to consummate our mutual ardor with a gentle kiss…" he trailed off, savoring the quiet perfection of the moment.

"And then?" Nami-san asked beside him.

His brow knit; a shuddering sigh falling from his lips. "And then, tragedy struck! A demon must have possessed you, my love, because you started saying the most…horrible things! Too awful to repeat!"

"Just spit it out, Sanji-kun!"

"You…you said…" But he couldn't force himself to say it. Not to Nami-swan. His face started feeling a little too warm. He told himself it was the sun beating down on him.

"Yes? What did I say, Sanji-kun?" she pried.

A small droplet of sweat rolled down his forehead, his breath a little unstable. Damn, it was hot out! Had the air always been so stifling? A presence seemed to press all around him; a hot, heavy, dominating presence that was close, too close, and the air wouldn't come like it was supposed to, and for a brief moment of insanity, Sanji could have sworn he felt rough fingers trail lightly over his cheek before he gasped, and the heat was gone.

"Sanji-kun?"

He was breathing a little too hard, but his better judgment seemed displaced enough that he actually gave her an answer. Sort of.

"Y-you…you asked something a-…about the marimo…"

He paused.

Nami-san watched him expectantly.

"And me," he clarified.

She blinked at him a second. "What exactly did I ask?"

"Y-you…" but then he broke off and made an odd whining noise. He really, really didn't want to give her a verbatim account; God only knew what she'd think of him if she knew the absurd, disturbing things his subconscious could come up with! Oh this bitter agony! "You asked what it…what it was like…t-to…"

"I asked what it was like to fuck Zoro?"

"Yes, and it was dreadful, Nami-swan, I knew the dream was truly a nightmare when—"

His voice slammed hard against his choked throat, as something cold and desperate slithered through Sanji's gut just then. How…how did she know that…unless…

"Sanji-kun?" Nami-san asked.

He closed his eyes and groaned, throwing his arm over his face again, but this time out of genuine anguish. It had been real. She had honestly asked him that question. Which meant she honestly knew his dark secret. And he couldn't honestly lie to her, now that he knew she was so well-informed. And it appeared as though he had honestly fainted dead-away on the deck of the ship. Sanji didn't see an upside to this shitty set of circumstances.

Plus there was a dull, thudding pain at the back of his head, and he wondered why he hadn't felt it earlier. Fuck, I need a cigarette!

The wood of the deck had suddenly become incredibly uncomfortable, so Sanji heaved himself up to lean heavily over his own lap. All good, warm, happy feelings had fled, leaving only oppressive heat and a helluva lot of exhaustion.

Nami sighed from somewhere above him, and he was aware of her slowly lowering herself to the deck beside him. He couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at the ocean. Couldn't look at anything but his hands that didn't even have the energy to shake anymore. He would have lit a cigarette just then, but he didn't think his arms would move.

"Do you want to talk about it?" A soft, gentle question. More compassion than he deserved. Because he'd lied to her. Because he was sick. Because there was something obviously wrong with him.

"No, Nami-san," he replied tonelessly. "Thank you."

She huffed, not liking that response. "Well, you're gonna anyway. Moping around here isn't going to fix anything."

He knew he didn't deserve to, but Sanji frowned and looked at her anyway. How did she…

But Nami just winked, grinning at him. "Please, you think I couldn't figure that out? You guys weren't all that discreet, anyway."

Sanji ground his teeth, feeling a little life flow back into him in the form of anger. "Goddamn stupid marimo," he muttered. "Told him a million times to act normal about it!"

"You think Zoro gave it away?" Nami asked, quirking her eyebrow when Sanji turned to gape at her once more. He didn't even need to say anything; she simply nodded sagely, confirming his worst fears.

"But…how—"

"You danced around a lot more, you didn't dote on Robin and me as much, you paid way more attention to Zoro, even if it was just fighting, your cooking was better and a little on the spicy side," she said, tallying the list off on her delicate fingers. "Plus, you mutter 'marimo' all the time when I catch you napping."

Sanji felt his heart, lungs, and other major organs sink to the wooden deck, along with his slack jaw. There wasn't a single thing he could think of to say. He simply sat in stunned horror, mulling over this new revelation. Slowly his hands came up to cover his face, the now familiar sensation of mortification seeping into his bones.

All that bitching about "Being discreet," and "Don't tell anyone," and "It's just a distraction," and I'm the one who goes and fucks it all up.

…I wonder how much embarrassment I can take before I decide to just gut myself with a blunt spoon…

"Look, it's not like Zoro wasn't acting weird either," Nami said hastily, grabbing his shoulder and trying to pull Sanji from his vortex of woe. He looked up at her blearily. "It's just…I guess I noticed it from you first. But thinking back on it, he was out of character too…he was a lot less abrasive. I think he laughed more…"

Nami paused for a moment, frowning at him. "I think you two were happy. Well…happier, anyway. What's with this funk you're in?"

Sanji cleared his throat a bit nervously, but it felt a lot easier to dredge it up now that Nami-san already knew. "Er…about six days ago we…sort of…stopped."

She blinked at him a second. "Stopped," she repeated.

"Yeah, we've been…it had been going on for about two months, and then he just…stops. Doesn't want to do it anymore. Keeps refusing." And I'm not so desperate that I'm gonna rape the bastard, no matter how bad he has it coming to him!

Nami nodded at him, giving a knowing sigh. "Ah yes, I thought something was off. You've been taking it pretty hard, it seems."

He just coughed slightly as way of affirmation. No need to go into the excruciating detail of just how badly he was handling this enforced celibacy.

"Zoro's been acting off, too," she noted, almost to herself.

Sanji's head snapped up and stared out at the sea, excited by the possibilities of this new information. Was that true? Was the asshole just as jittery and frustrated as he was? Did he break shit out of uncontained fury? Did he have nightmares every time he closed his eyes, leaving him with painful erections that wouldn't ever get the treatment they needed? Was he coming unglued too?

Of course he fucking was!

"Hn," he snorted, doing a wonderful job of containing his glee. "Serves him right. Asshole deserves this whole fucking headache." He almost felt bad about swearing so much in front of Nami, but at the moment he didn't have the energy to properly apologize. And Sanji did nothing half-assed.

"I wouldn't say he's as strung out as you," Nami said honestly.

"What do you mean? He hasn't gotten laid either the last six days."

She rolled her eyes as though the cook couldn't possibly be any dumber. "Please, Sanji, we're talking about a guy who tried to chop his own damn legs off. If he could do that, don't you think he could handle a few days without sex? Insignificant things like that don't get to him. Although that does go a long way for making him an insensitive ass at times," she muttered slightly. "No, he's not off his rocker, but he is really moody. And quiet. He doesn't even get mad when Luffy and the guys wake him up from a nap. He just kind of stares at them and goes back to sleep. He acts like someone died."

He didn't have an answer to that. It took him a moment, but eventually Sanji worked up the nerve to say, "My dearest Nami-swan, I don't mean to sound rude, but breakfast will be ready soon, and…" He trailed off, unable to actually say what he wanted to say, but he looked at her with his tired, glazed eyes, and bless her heart, she understood.

"Of course, Sanji-kun. I'll be just out on deck, reading. Call me when it's ready, ne?"

"Certainly, Nami-swan." With that, his nimble goddess rose to her feet and descended the few stairs down to the main deck, leaving Sanji with his thoughts. He could never actually put into words that he wanted Nami to leave him alone, because never before in his life had he ever wanted a woman to remove her beauty from him. But he knew he had some shit to think about, and it would only be harder with Nami's radiating presence there to distract him.

Sanji's body remained perfectly still, listening for any more early risers, but the ship was eerily quiet. His muscles weren't twitching anymore, which he guessed was a good thing. The dull thud in his skull had lessened considerably; also comforting. Really, all his body's previous ailments were completely gone. Which only threw into much more painful relief the new sensation he was experiencing: an aching, ripping sort of feeling in his chest. Like something really important had been torn out by claws. He'd felt something similar to this only one other time: when he saw that shitty old man had cut off his own leg, so that Sanji could survive on a deserted, sun-parched, god-forsaken rock. It was that kind of pain. And it pissed him off.

This was not guilt. He did not feel bad about this whole thing. Why the fuck should he? The baka-bushido was the one who up and decides that he's too good for sex! It's his own damn fault if he feels all mopey! It's just what he deserves for being such a selfish asshole! Yes, Sanji would admit the pain was actually there, in his chest, but so the fuck what? There must be something physically wrong with him, that's all. It wasn't any of that psychosomatic bullshit that Chopper was always trying to explain to the crew. His feelings and shit were not causing this pain! They couldn't be! Sanji had a clear fucking conscience! He hadn't done anything wrong!

Then…why the fuck does it feel like I did…?

Hee hee! See, Nami ain't evil all the time! Thanks for all the love, guys! You make me wibble with glee!