Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Sixteen: Maybe This Time

Only one week remained until Turnover had its big debut.

Sanji found himself with a free afternoon – his shift at the restaurant was over, he wasn't watching the twins, and there would be no practice with the band. Did he study? No, he needed a break from study – he's mastered the F and G clefs and was working his way through the C clefs, and it was all starting to run together in his head. Did he find a place to spar in the woods? No, there was only so much he could do without a partner.

He opted to take a walk around the island.

The marketplace near town hall was largely a place where food was sold, excluding seafood – the fish market was near the docks, and truth be told, neither he nor Nami was terribly comfortable going there yet. Walking or running along the beach was one thing – the water had to be at least up to their knees before they started to feel the effects of their Devil Fruits. But every creak they felt or heard when walking on the dock was a reminder than they were directly over deep water, and no matter how sturdy the wood was, it was a little nerve-wracking to take the trip there.

Sanji walked through the marketplace, looking around and trying to piece together a meal for dinner that night. There was a lot of good produce, and the butcher had produced some fine cuts of beef. He wasn't feeling particularly inspired by anything he saw, but decided that was okay – he had plenty of time to figure it out, and there were other things he wanted to do that afternoon.

About a block away from the end of the marketplace was a bazaar that dealt in the trade of items not made on the island and really depended on what the last merchant ships from Shanks' other islands had brought. Sometimes there was exotic food, mostly dried meats and confectionaries that traveled well but also the occasional fresh fruit, but mostly it was a variety of trinkets, tools, clothes, and other items available for whatever the merchant was willing to sell it for.

Sanji was making the dubious decision to try and find a specific item – a pair of sunglasses.

Granted, they were well into spring now and summer was just around the corner so that kind of item showing up would make sense, but Sanji looking for something to wear for the performance next week. After passing by one stall selling hats and another that had procured paintbrushes and paints, there was a vendor selling belts and accessories.

Sanji spotted his prize immediately, and his eyes lit up. It was just like his favorite pair back on the Thousand Sunny – yellow lenses, thick frames. They looked about the same size and had the Dosoki Panda label written on the left temple. Perfect. Now he just needed to be smart about making the purchase so he didn't get taken for a ride and-

"See something you like, sir?"

Sanji internally swore – it was never a good idea to show that much excitement and interest in an object when dealing with these vendors. They could smell desperation and usually charged a much higher rate than what they would have under any other circumstance. Unluckily for the merchant, however, Sanji wasn't going to get taken this time.

Sanji's best friend and roommate was Nami, and she'd taught him a few things.

Including what to do in this situation.

Sanji quickly shifted his to the item closest to the sunglasses – a "gold-plated", cheaply made pocket watch. "Can you tell me how much this watch is?" he asked as innocently as he could. For Nami, this was usually accompanied by a girlish pout and wide eyes. For Sanji, this meant acting like a country boy visiting the city for the first time. "It's just so . . . gosh-darn pretty."

The vendor smirked. Sanji kept his dopey smile. Gotcha.

"Well now, that's a fine piece right there – very, very valuable, quite an impressive thing to own," said the vendor. Sanji listened, feigning his best fake expression as the vendor sold him a bullshit story about how it was the preferred brand amongst high-ranking Marines and was made of the finest material available (even though Sanji could tell it was brass covered in a cheap gold knock-off). "For this I can't let her go for any less than, oh, one hundred thousand berries."

Sanji's eyes widened. Yikes! This guy's really trying to hustle me. "Golly, sir, I don't think I got that much!" he said. He frowned and looked around the table and started pointing at objects he thought he knew the value of and let the vendor start rattling off prices. Little by little, the prices were going down, and Sanji was even able to trip the vendor up on a leather wallet.

"What about this?" Sanji picked up the sunglasses with his thumb and index finger.

"Two thousand berries – take it or leave it," the vendor said in annoyance.

Sanji pretended to think about it before reaching for his wallet. "I guess so." Once the money was in the vendor's hand, Sanji relaxed, grinned, and put the glasses on. They were a little wobbly, but nothing that couldn't be fixed easily enough. "Thank you, sir – these are mighty swell!" He waved cheerfully at the vendor as he walked away.

Nami was going to be so proud of him.

After not finding anything else to do in town for the moment, he decided to leave the town and explore some other parts of the island. There wasn't much to speak of in terms of "civilization" aside from a select few buildings, like Mac's home and Braeburn's forge, but the natural scenery was nice to take in as well.

Sanji reached the edge of the island – the beach. He soon realized it was the spot where they'd originally washed up on the island. Braeburn and Mac had described the spot to them sometime after Shanks' last visit to the island, but he didn't think he or Nami had been here since that cold morning Cobbler found them. The lifeboat was long gone (it had probably been used as firewood for the bonfire they made the night Shanks left, he thought), and the sea had erased any trace of their entrance to the island. Sanji shoved his sunglasses up on his forehead, slipped off his shoes and took a seat on the beach, digging his toes into the sand as he watched the sea.

No ships – just the horizon line dividing the sea from the sky.

Sanji brought his knees to his chest, folded his arms, and rested his chin against them. By now, rumors that he and Nami had died must have spread pretty far. He wondered if those rumors had reached the other Straw Hats, or any of their other friends around the Grand Line or even back in the East Blue. I'm sorry, Luffy, everyone – I don't know how else we could have done it.

It wasn't that life on Apple Island was terrible – it was really good. They had friends and jobs and it was nice not having to worry about Marines or bounty hunters being out for their necks and the prices on their heads. But it wasn't the same as traveling the seas and going on adventures with Luffy and the others and chasing their dreams. Being away from the sea and the dangers upon it was what they needed, but it wasn't necessarily what they wanted.

Apple Island couldn't give them a map of the world or the location of All Blue.

Sanji dragged his finger through the sand. At least he still had Nami. She was all he had left of his old life, even if so much about both of them had changed. They'd gotten so damn comfortable around each other – it was nothing for one of them to be in the shower and the other announcing they needed to pee and they'd be out in just a second. They usually brushed their teeth huddled over the bathroom sink together, and that was to say nothing of their sleeping arrangement.

He started to draw a picture of her in the sand – for all his talents in the kitchen or with a microphone (something he was still trying to wrap his head around), he couldn't draw very well. It was a crude drawing of Nami, smiling at him with big brown rocks for eyes and a pebble crafted smile. He drew her hair the way it was before they'd been kidnapped (although Nami's hair was getting close to dipping below her ears – he himself had enough to styling it close to the way he had before), lingering on that one piece that hung just a little longer than the rest.

Sanji sighed and flopped back onto the sand. He craned his neck to look at the sand art he'd created. He laughed a little – it really was pretty bad. Nami was better two dimensional art than he was (though not as good as Usopp – her drawings were largely technical in their execution, the sniper could convey emotions and mood) but he still found himself amused by the effort. He sat up and looked at it again, running his hand along the line of her cheek.

It made him feel happy.

After a trip to the marketplace for some food shopping, Sanji got home about an hour before Nami was set to get out of work and started on dinner. He hadn't done much of anything special since they'd arrived on the island, and somewhere between the beach and the town the desire to go all out had struck him. The only thing he couldn't get fancy with was the drinks, because Gala was still cautious about letting them have alcohol. Sanji settled on sparkling apple juice instead – it would at least look like a sparkling white wine.

While preparing the meal, he remembered fantasizing about making dinner for the two of them. Sanji had always figured it was supposed to be some kind of romantic setting, with candles and flowers and trying to coax her into bed with sweet words. Dinner with just the two of them had become the status quo, and going to bed was just a matter of getting sleep.

This was really the first time he'd tried to show off to her when it was just the two of them.

Not that he'd been lacking in previous meals – not at all. But it was a lot of simpler recipes with simple foods that, though delicious and nutritious for their dietary needs, weren't all that exciting, but tonight he was making duck with orange sauce (a ship had come in a few days ago with oranges and he'd managed to grab a few before they sold out), sautéed vegetables, and chocolate mousse for dessert.

Sanji frowned at the duck in the oven – the smell of the oranges made him sad he couldn't give her tangerines. So far, none of the ships that had come to Apple Island from Shanks' other islands had brought any tangerines, and neither of them dared to get close to the docks when such a ship was in town. Just because newspapers and wanted posters were a rarity on Apple Island didn't mean they weren't commonplace on other islands, and who knew what the captains and crews of those ships picked up. Getting recognized could spell disaster for them and blow their whole plan. The oranges he'd found in the marketplace would have to do.

He wondered why he'd gotten the sudden urge to do this. It wasn't a special anniversary he could think of, and there wasn't anything big that had happened for either of them in a while (although Sanji knew that the performance at the Cider Mug was slowly starting to creep up on him). He stared at the sauté for an answer.

The carrots were the color of her hair.

Sanji paused. Was he starting to get feelings for her again?

Was that even a good idea? Sanji flipped the vegetables and tried to think this out. On the one hand, he and Nami had a very strong friendship, and throwing in "something more" could destroy the balance they had – that was something neither of them for afford to risk (their sleep alone depended on it, never mind the rest of their emotional well-beings). He wasn't even sure if Nami would be on board with the idea of trying to have that kind of relationship, especially with how things used to be between them.

On the other hand, the way things were was different. They had a strong friendship, something he hadn't had with any of the ladies he'd been with before. Most of them had been one night stands, and those who weren't he'd only known a day or two before starting very frenzied and passionate but pitifully short relationships with before things fell apart. There wasn't a lot of talking or understanding – just a lot of sex and making out.

If he and Nami were to try the whole dating thing, they already knew how to talk to each other. They confided almost everything to one another and she was, far and away, the person he was closest to. For crying out loud they were sharing a bed, even if it was for a practical, not-sexy times purpose, and, well, it sort of eliminated the possibility of either of them dating anyone else (not that this was a reason to start down that path – they were still working on the presumption that this was a temporary problem and, someday, they would be able to fall asleep apart).

And then there WAS the whole . . . sleeping together thing. That would have a whole different context if they were dating. Of course he wouldn't pressure her into anything more intimate than what they already had (really, cuddling could be nice, too), but there was a lot to think about there, too. Nami was a virgin, he was experienced. Was she the wait for marriage type? Would this be long term? Would they need to have a talk about condoms and birth control, even if they were both sterile and clean?

Sanji took a deep breath. He was getting himself WAY too far ahead. He hadn't even asked her out yet – if they did date and, as a result, have sex, that probably wouldn't happen right away. Go out to dinner a few times, go do some dancing or something, and when the time was right then they'd make love and it would be something special for both of them.

But that wasn't in the cards yet – one step at a time. He hadn't even asked her out yet!

Sanji's mind continued to wander. What about the other Straw Hats? He didn't think Luffy would give a rat's ass if two of his crewmembers had a romance, but if they could build something serious, would that cause a problem when they came back to the crew? Would the others treat them differently? Would they have to keep it a secret?

What about Zeff and Nojiko – Zeff didn't have a very high opinion of "that ship stealing hussy" and he had a feeling Nojiko wasn't very impressed with him, either. Of course with the way things were going it was going to be a REALLY long time before they saw anyone from back home in the East Blue, but he had a feeling that might not go over so well right away.

Sanji reached behind his head to scratch and felt his pinky brush up against the scars on the back of his neck, and he paused. In the colder weather, he'd been covering it up with turtlenecks. In the warmer weather, he'd been wearing light but unisex or otherwise masculine scarves around his neck. At the Cider Mug, it was all bandanas to keep himself and everyone else around him safe. To cook tonight, he'd taken the one he'd been wearing off, so nothing was hiding it from the world.

In an instant, he stopped caring what other people thought about what he did or didn't do with his life. For an entire year, That Man had controlled everything that happened to his body and her body. He'd forced them to eat Devil Fruits and made them freaks among freaks. He'd run experiments on them, hurt them, for months and months. Pills. Injections. Shock therapy. It had made them addicts, it had taken away their names and made them shivering husks of their former selves.

Now that they had gotten away from him and gotten themselves on track with recovery, what they did with their bodies was all up to them – even Gala could only give them suggestions on what to do and not do. Nothing was stopping Sanji from buying a carton of cigarettes and smoking the whole thing in an afternoon, or drinking a whole bottle of wine in one sitting. He'd gotten control of his life back when they'd gotten away from that terrible monster of a man.

Sanji took a deep breath, leaning against the kitchen counter. This was HIS life. HIS body. If he and Nami decided to have a relationship, there was no one who was going to tell them "no". He didn't care what anyone else told them they could or couldn't do – he was tired of being controlled. Whatever they decided was THEIR choice and THEIRS alone.

Provided, of course, that Nami wanted the same thing. There was no guarantee she felt the same way he was feeling now. She could have been perfectly content with their friendship the way it stood – as a close friendship, nothing more. And it was a close friendship. He'd never had a friend like her that he could just talk to and share things with. It wasn't like anything he had with anyone else – not the other chefs on the Baraite, not Zeff, not the other Straw Hats, not the other guys in Turnover.

She was . . . different.

Maybe this means . . .

Sanji heard the door to their apartment open – Nami was home.

"Hi Sanji-kun," she greeted. "Smells great!"

Sanji smiled. I'll worry about it later. "Thanks!"

As Nami walked into the kitchen and started poking around to see what he was up to (and compliment him on his new sunglasses – and this was BEFORE he told her about how he'd acquired them), Sanji wondered if he should say anything. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. He wasn't sure what to say, or how to say it, or even if it was the right time to say anything. For the moment, he was content to tell her what he was making, and saying that it was just for the hell of it.

Over the next several days, Sanji tried to find the right moment, the right time, to just find the courage to say something to her. But Nami seemed to be a little fidgety about something (she'd been very fidgety since that bizarre incident in the shower, actually) and it just never seemed like a good idea to broach the subject.

Sanji always found a reason to put it off. She was too distracted by something. She looked tired. HE was tired (although that was very true on days he was watching Wendy and Sundae – those two probably had the energy to power Water 7 for a week). They had a visitor. He had to study. She was wrapped up with something at work. They had to focus on training.

Now it was the night before Turnover's big debut, and Braeburn had strongly suggested he put himself on voice rest. Nami told him she'd make dinner than night and prepared something specifically geared towards soothing throats and voice boxes. Sanji was touched – that was so sweet of her, and another reason that he had to find a way to just talk to her.

But of course tonight was the one night he actually couldn't.

Nami fell asleep before he did, and Sanji was content to lie there and hold her. It was just comforting to know she was there, and it eased a lot of his worries about the following day. Just like she was here now, she was going to be somewhere in the audience at the restaurant tomorrow, cheering him on, and he knew no matter what happened it was somehow all going to be okay.

Maybe tomorrow was the day then. Maybe after the stress of that first performance was over and done with, no matter how good or bad it went, maybe he'd find the courage to ask her if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee afterwards. Maybe she'd understand he was asking her out on a date and wanted to see if they could try being more than just friends.

Maybe if he was lucky, she'd say yes.

Author's Notes

Well, what have we got here? I'm pretty sure "Maybe This Time" is from a song lyric, too (wasn't it in the first season of Glee?) although Sanji's realization is a bit tamer than Nami's was. A lot.

Next chapter starts the wrapping up of this arc, but things may not go the way you guys might expect. Stay tuned.

Dixxy