A FEW DAYS LATER

It was a little after midnight when Nami ventured toward the kitchen. She had just woken up for her shift at the wheel, and she desperately needed some caffeine. As she yawned and thought about grabbing some leftover teacakes to go with her coffee, she noticed the light in the crack of Franky's workshop door and paused. She knew he wasn't on shift that night. 'What's he doing up so late?' she thought as she peered through the slight opening in the door and saw Franky hunched over his drafting table, snoring slightly. She slipped silently into the room and over to him. He was drooling profusely onto his sketchbook, pencil still clutched in his hand. He looked a lot younger in his sleep.

Nami poked his shoulder. When that got no response, she poked his cheek. Still no response. Finally she slapped him, and he woke with a yawn. "Oh. Nami-san. What are you doing up?"

"I'm on night shift. Why are you here instead of your bed?"

"Eh. Just sketching some new cannon designs. Lost track of time, I guess." He stretched and rolled his shoulders. Nami smiled, remembering the bathtub incident. Her fingers twitched for a second like she wanted to touch him again. He stood up and grabbed a soda from the ice chest next to the table and offered her one as well. She took a swig, and felt more awake. She stood with the ice chest between her and the cyborg.

Franky watched Nami as she sipped her soda. Her hair was a little mussed; her baggy, un-zipped hoodie draped over her tank top and all the way to her mid-thigh. Her jeans had a few artfully placed rips in them. He thought she looked adorable. "So, I'm still waiting for you to get me back for the bathroom door," she said offhand. Franky's eyes narrowed, and he took a swig of his soda. "So what are the rules?" he asked.

"Rules?"

"This is a challenge, right? So how do we know who's won?"

"I don't remember issuing a challenge," said Nami.

"Oh? What other meaning was I supposed to take from the phrase, 'bring it on'?" Franky rested his head on his hand and leaned sideways to look at Nami.

"Only that I was really bored, and you seem like a devious kind of guy. I figured we'd have some fun."

"I love a good prank as much as the next guy, but going back to my earlier question, exactly what kind of fun?" Nami took a thoughtful swig of her soda.

"I guess I missed the fun of using my feminine wiles to get myself in and out of trouble."

"Yeah. I've seen the way you treat Curly Cook. He's an easy target, though."

"I was a cat-burglar and con artist for half my life," she said, as if that explained everything. "What's your excuse, super-pervert? You trying to get into my pants?"

"Not even a little bit, girlie. I'm on a boat in the middle of a crazy ocean with a crew full of weirdoes. There's no telling what would happen if we started sleeping with each other." He took another swig.

"I see your point." A small tendril of disappointment flickered across her heart, but she ignored it.

"However, I'd still like to keep up my reputation as a dashing, super-cool pervert." He winked. Nami rolled her eyes, but then held her bottle to her lips in thought.

"Well then, that answers one question."

"Huh?"

"The rules of this challenge are: the first person to blush loses. You can use any means as long as it doesn't cause lasting damage—physical or psychological." The innocent expression on her face as she said that made Franky chuckle into his soda bottle.

"And how do we decide an ultimate winner?"

"When the other person cries uncle."

"What's the prize?"

"How about the loser pays the winner $1,000,000 belli?" Nami chirped.

"Nah. Playing for money is boring. Besides, you'll just pitch a fit when you lose." Nami snorted in indignation. "How about, the loser has to do anything the winner says for 24 hours, no questions asked." Franky grinned devilishly.

'Oh, now it is really on!' she thought. "Deal."

She walked a few steps to shake his hand, but misjudged the distance and began to trip over the ice chest. Franky stood quickly to catch her. Before he knew what had happened, he was on the floor balancing his weight on one arm while the other wrapped around Nami's waist below him. Nami opened her eyes and saw Franky looming above her, stunned by the realization of how…compromising their position was. Their legs were entangled; one of her hands was clutching his shirt, and their faces were inches away from each other. She had managed to hold onto the soda bottle in the hand that was clutched to her chest. Her suddenly horizontal position had caused the remaining soda to spill onto her cleavage, pouring across her clavicle and over the sides of her slender neck. Her lips parted and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Franky couldn't pull his eyes away. He licked his lips and absently wondered how his favorite soda would taste on her skin. He breathed in her citrus-y scent mixed with the scent of cola and gulped audibly. He leaned down, barely conscious of his actions.

"Hey Franky, is that a bottle of soda in your Speedo, or are you just happy to see me?" Franky snapped back into the present, saw the smug look on Nami's face, and a brilliant blush spread across his face and down his neck. He removed his arm from her waist as she laughed. "Well you—I wasn't—you—you did this on purpose!"

"Well, duuuh!" Nami giggled. "Nami two, Franky zero. Ha. Ha." Franky glared down at her, and thought quickly of a counter-move.

"I don't think the bathtub thing should count, but we can argue semantics later. While I've got you down here, we might as well get you out of those wet cl—" Before he could complete the perverted thought, Nami kneed him forcefully in the crotch. She rolled gracefully out from under him while he sputtered and rolled over onto his side in the fetal position.

"Nobody likes a sore loser, Franky," she called as she sashayed out of his workshop. Franky suddenly regretted not turning 100% of his front half into metal.

'This is going to be harder than I thought.'