Merizo – thank you so much for your comment on the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one as well.
The complete heading of this chapter is "Crushing revelations and revealed crushes", but it got cut off from the chapter title due to ff-limitations regarding character count. If you want a better reading experience, please head over to AO3, where formatting is cleaner and life is easier.
Sanji left on a rainy Tuesday morning, heading for his superbe aventure as he proclaimed with a picturesque flourish, the whole spectacle made a tad damp by the early spring fog clinging to the scenery. There were tears (Chopper), boisterous exclamations of taking making a grand tour on the continent (Luffy), a hug (Nami and Usopp) and a grunt (Zoro) and then their cook was gone.
And life didn't seem to care much but rather went on as before, filling their lives with lectures and group work and exam preparations and other things generally connected with university life, such as overdue library loans and the occasional missing person report and hangovers and vows of vengeance when Luffy destroyed the third dartboard of the year.
And the relentless dwindling of dates, disappearing with the red crosses drawn each day on Nami's departure calendar, prominently displayed on top of Zoro's training schedule on their fridge.
Unluckily for her, the terms didn't quite march up and so she had a few weeks of idle time while waiting for her accommodation in Germany to become free and the term to start. The only thing keeping things somewhat interesting while she whittled away her waiting was the wrapping up of her departmental duties and the appointment of a new professor, to be finalized a week or so before her departure.
And, of course, her current scientific conundrum.
When confronting something novel and confusing, such as the mechanics behind the discomfort of wet underwear or the compromise between men's and women's ideal mating strategies inherent in the booty call, the natural reaction of a scientist is to try to find some logic and reason to the whole shebang; to tease out cause and correlation and possibly find some potential for generalization and increasing the understanding of the internal workings of the world. Why are wet underwear so utterly horrendous, regardless of any external factors? How does the booty call process work and why has it evolved into its currents form?
When the world changes, or you notice a facet of it you hadn't really considered before, it is simply human nature to investigate. This is what leads to such gruesome horror movies and why it doesn't help to shout, 'Don't go in there you bloody tosser!'at your television when the dispensable sidekick throws an apprehensive look down the dark, creaky basement stairs, stained with something mysterious in a lovely shade of burgundy.
It's the call of human nature; the thing that drove the ancient ones over oceans and across mountains (or down basement stairs), that inspired them to take flight and to dive into the bowels of the earth itself.
And now it was driving Nami insane.
A most unusual problem had knocked on her door.
That very morning the knock had come at eight, accompanied by a cup of coffee silently placed in front of her.
And the knocker was soon to return.
Hopefully bearing more coffee, her traitorous heart whispered from the caffeine-ravaged depths of her soul.
Nami's understanding of Trafalgar Law resembled nothing so much as a roller-coaster ride.
Everything started off at rock bottom, with deriding remarks and vows of vengeance and a flooded corner office. Since the only direction from there was 'up', however, their acquaintance soon picked up speed, uncaring of singing get-well cards or the fluffiest of cuddly toys to be found that soon crowded their office.
The introduction of Luffy's thesis project acted as a sort of mediating bridge of chaos, creating a plateau of bafflement and enabling both Nami and Law to consequently find an equilibrium at the office.
The first true high had been reached in the days following the football game and unexpected acts of bravery and kindness in the dark of night – only to be careening off the next drop afterwards, Law growing colder and more distant for some inexplicable reason. Bepo only shook his head mournfully when she questioned him, sad eyes brimming with something inexplicable that made Nami extremely uncomfortable, her unease added on to with each appearing piece of the puzzle that was her own feelings.
And then came Sanji's farewell party, exposing yet further depths and sides of the man as yet unknown. Who knew he could draw a surprisingly comprehensible portrayal of the great and late Terry Jones in Pictionary, or had reasonably well-reasoned takes on Bourdieu, although his conclusion was, of course, completely wrong?
Who knew he had the most intriguing bedhead and liked his coffee black as sin in the morning?
Well, she had already suspected that when taking his usual habit of practically inhaling his coffee into consideration.
Over the course of her acquaintance with one Trafalgar Law, her world had simply tilted off-kilter and she was still careening, trying to get her bearings.
But now…
The only logical thing to do had been to take a scientific approach to the whole mess.
A meteorology major by day and an economics student by night, Nami had ample scientific tools for her disposal, including (but not limited to) probability forecasting, unsupervised learning, different resampling methods and, for the truly brave, dark magic performed on p-values, never to be spoken of outside the shadowy halls of the statistics class.
Since she was a conscientious burgeoning scientist, her experiments were also carefully designed, with schedules laid down and surveys tested on multiple people before being launched at unsuspecting respondents. The only downside so far identified was the utter impossibility of having a control group, but c'est la vie in matters of the heart.
Normally, her study-related experiments involved easy tasks, such as asking people to remember strings of numbers and then to choose between eating a cupcake and a banana (or they did, until Luffy participated and ate all the snacks, thus ending her experiment and starting her fifth crusade on His Bounciness), but this time was quite different.
Firstly, there were no food involved, which guaranteed the absence of Luffy.
Secondly, she was doing science for her own sake, not for a course. This involved something much more significant than grades, if that was indeed possible (which she did doubt a bit).
When performing an experiment, and especially when reporting on the subsequent findings in scientific journals, it is important to keep scientific rigour and significance in mind. Why did you perform the experiment, and what is the statistical significance of your results in relation to the null hypothesis?
Such words can be quite strange, and even frightening, to people entering the hallowed halls of learning and research and cause many grey hairs among the ones who haven't escaped the clutches of academia when it is their turn to explain to the eager public and critical reviewers why a sample of 29 was very suitable indeed and how it had nothing to do with one of the test subjects eating all the experiment equipment.
The concept (the significant common features of an aspect of the social world we want to explain; in this case, a building block of her theory regarding feelings) to be investigated in her current experiment was the subset of 'romantic feelings'.
Her null hypothesis was that everything was fine and normal. There were no growing sense of closeness or interest in everything he had ever said or published, no late-night stalking of social media or elevated heartrate whatsoever when one Trafalgar Law happened to be in the vicinity.
Her alternative hypothesis (that she was developing 'feelings') was based on the curious reactions she got whenever she was in close proximity to said Trafalgar Law, which were very much in line with conventional takes on romantic feelings indeed.
She was very aware of her own biases in the matter and although both her population and sample were small (1), she could still justify the weaknesses of academic rigour by the fact that the whole exercise was based on convenience rather than any stated theoretical framework, since its purpose was to clarify her own feelings and not create generalizable results regarding the human psyche.
All this, only for her to be seated at her desk, head in hands, one beautiful spring day, cursing the world, the universe and everything.
There are, of course, numerous ways to fiddle with experimental numbers, especially in statistics, and thus present findings in a more beneficial light than the actual data would support. This is perfectly fine and accepted in economics, a branch of scientific thinking where people try to apply the pure laws of mathematics on the mess that is human behaviour and then act surprised when things don't go as expected.
There is less leeway for fiddling in the natural sciences. But the human mind is ingenious and can always find a way around such tawdry obstacles.
Nami added a few choice words about the past, present and future state of reality for good measure as well as heartily cursing the influence of Chopper: having lifted her own somewhat dubious morals from the gutter to pavement height, at least, said influence now made it impossible (or at least very, very hard) for her to fudge the numbers to get the answer she craved.
No matter what Usopp claimed, Nami was a very structured individual (when the situation called for it) and catalogued her experiments scrupulously, whether they be in lab or at home. She had whole excel-sheets filled with Luffy's food choices, in an effort to find the most cost-efficient way to keep the man well-fed. Her notebooks on Sanji's food budgeting and Zoro's training hours would have amazed the most conscientious Taylorist, as would the level of detail in her field notes on Usopp's adventures in the shed out in the back, with colour-coded notations on the difference between screams of pain and horror emanating from the rickety structure.
But the result of the scrap paper in front of her, filled to the brim with calculations, suppositions, hypotheses and smudged corrections, still sat there with its simple truth wrapped in the tidy language of statistics.
And she wanted to refuse the results so very much, to reduce them to a figment of her imagination and a simple miscalculation. A hypothesis proved wrong, the null hypothesis standing strong and tall.
Her skin felt too tight. And not in the delicious way the possibility of first wanting to, and then taking the proper course of action to actually be able to, see someone without their clothes on and engage in mutually beneficial carnal activities.
A shiver raced down her spine at the thought of Law without his clothes on, interrupted by the clatter of her pencil. She could but stare at the wooden stick, so fragile in its slender length as it rolled to a halt against a folded corner of the crumpled piece of paper, numb fingers clutching at empty air.
A distant voice, muffled by distress but still familiar enough to bring forth the warmth of summer sun and the smile of her sister tried to call her back, reminding her of the silliness of the exercise; of course she couldn't find the solution to matters of the heart in some p-values–
And of course she couldn't do that. But numbers did help her make sense of the world, of how things were and how they could be. And the numbers didn't lie. Oh no, she knew that better than most. Numbers don't lie, especially her numbers…
In her heart, she was whimpering, curled into herself, desperately trying to gather herself before her officemates returned.
She just couldn't sink back into that horribly familiar and comfortable reliance, leaning on others when she wasn't strong enough.
If Luffy and Zoro hadn't appeared–
A deep breath closed that particular door before it had time to open. Breathe in, count to four. Breathe out, count to four. Breathe in…
Trafalgar Law was a menace, nothing more.
That was the only reason for her jumpiness and snappishness when she was near the man.
Or when she was away from him, for that matter.
The only thing that seemed to mitigate her waspish reactions was to actually spend time with him; something she really rather wouldn't be doing, regardless of his qualities as a discussion partner, or however tasty the coffee he made. No matter how interesting their discussions were, the way he always had to put her down with his credentials and the number of publications in his name pushed all the wrong buttons, leaving her flushed from both annoyance and the mounting intrigue brought on by his sharp eyes and acerbic tongue.
Someone that good with words had to be good with other stuff involving the mouth as well.
A sunbeam painted the edge of the paper in front of her a shimmering, pale gold, darker spots of amber appearing in the shadows. The soft susurration of office life filtered through the open door, blanketing her in an almost meditative state as she traced the fallen pen mindlessly, pushing it this way and that.
However much consideration he occasionally showed towards her and her caffeine needs, his aloof, almost rude treatment of others in the office reminded her of a time when she had been treated with special care – if she behaved as expected. The uncertainty of old had started to creep back in time with his growing indifference, ignoring her when she gathered all the scraps of courage she had at her disposal and asked him if he wanted to for a collective coffee break, his work so very much more interesting than she could ever be.
It made it easier to fight the stupid crush she was apparently cursed with.
His general physical appearance didn't make things less confusing or annoying.
The way his tight turtleneck sweater rode up the tiniest of smidges, exposing smooth skin and hard muscles when he reached for the higher reaches in the cupboards made her breath hitch and tingles spread across her body. His low voice sauntered down her spine to pool in her stomach, fanning a furious blush if she didn't temper it down with thoughts of the ice-cold tundra, Luffy's latest attempt at making dinner, or, in a truly desperate pinch, of old Red Nose in a Santa Costume.
The small crease that formed above Law's nose when he focused was the cutest thing she had seen since Chopper discovered candy floss and although the dark circles framing his sharp eyes did seem to grow as time went on, he still managed to knock the breath from her lungs when he turned that focused golden gaze on her.
And he smelled heavenly.
One day she would succeed, she'd vowed, the fateful day she noticed his cologne; she would discover what made him smell like the sea and the forest and the desert all at once, heavy earthy tones mingling with fresh pine and sea foam, by some miracle that was modern olfactory chemistry. But so far, all her attempts to find out his brand of aftershave had been in vain.
However interesting and staggeringly handsome the man was, or however pleasing his scent, she was still, somehow, smarting from the throwaway comment she had overheard all those months ago, made in a time before he even knew she existed.
Most days, she tried to squash her confused feelings, focusing instead on his dry wit and annoying habit of leaving empty coffee cups on his desk, amassing a mass and height approaching Olympus Mons. Most days still filled with tea and laughter and the cheering ensuing after the last time ever of helping the Dean file his travel reports correctly.
But some days, the memory uncurled from some dark depth of her mind, dragging the sky down with it, suffocating her in hues of grey and the smell of ozone and the pressure of the Mariana trench.
The pen fell off the table, clattering against the linoleum-coated floor. Nami stared blindly after it, hand still poised in the air, ready for the next push and her soul calmed down to almost manageable levels.
But there was no future there.
On a rational level, she knew that they were somewhere between distant acquaintances and acceptable collegiality-based friends. They shared coffee breaks and a concern for Bepo's sugar levels that bordered on parental. Scientific theories were dissected with gusto, as were the newest methods and the outrageous experimental budget over at the physics department. The camaraderie they shared was a curiously tentative and careful creature.
But after all these months and shared moments, her senses were still smarting from their first, unintentional meeting; a meeting she wasn't sure he even realised existed. It still rankled her that the first impression of her would be of an airhead.
She had enough experience of being ignored and passed over due to prejudices based on youth (and beauty, as Sanji so helpfully kept reminding her, these days with the help of the latest technology) and although hard work seemed to work, it was nonetheless such a concrete reminder that she couldn't be sure of ever being enough on her own merit. That people would look at her and judge her on first impressions and prejudices; on their own pride and her outward appearance.
She stared at the calculations, scribbled down on a piece of scrap paper, willing their logic to dissolve into the bright morning sun streaming through her window.
She needed to get her mind straight and preferably find a nice distraction before she did something stupid.
Maybe those Lederhosen would work their magic on her down in Munich. Or maybe she'd finally fall into the old trap of having a crush on a teacher; a trap which she so far had managed to avoid, whatever Vivi tried to insinuate about her behaviour during their first weeks in Nico Robin's introductory course.
"Whatcha doin'?"
Nami yelped as the sudden appearance of Bepo shattered her reverie.
"Sorry…" the mink whimpered, head drooping.
"It's fine," Nami said, dropping her head down on the table in defeat, crushing the offending piece of paper under her heavy heart. "Nothing of any significance whatsoever. Like my life and dreams."
"No luck with your p-values today?" Bepo asked, dropping down in his own creaking chair and turning on the even creakier computer. It was a wonder the, in Nami's professional opinion, 'antiquated piece of junk' still worked, but when your old laptop is reduced into electronic trash by a deluge of water from a burst pipe, you take what you can get from the IT-cupboard.
"None whatsoever. They don't add up properly and I don't know what to do."
"I can take a look if you want–"
"NO!" Nami shot up, scrabbling frantically to hide her notes. "It's fine, it's really nothing important, just a bit of curiosity and self-reflection, really!"
The mink looked surprised at the sudden flurry of activity.
"If you're sure…"
"Yes! Very sure indeed! Nothing to worry about!"
"You've just been a bit down lately and I thought…"
It is a truth universally acknowledged that no-one can look as sad as a polar bear mink. The sight of Bepo's dejected face twisted around Nami's heart, crushing it like a nutcracker at Christmas. Nami had never seen the effect of emotional mink-eyes before, but that was something that hit you straight in the gut with a sucker punch that rivalled Luffy's.
The fact wasn't helped by the dark clouds gathering around his head, rumbling ominously.
"Thank you for offering, Bepo, really. But it's really nothing major or anything to worry about."
"If you're sure…" Bepo still looked dejected but as his ears were perking up a bit by now and the dark clouds had turned a lightly shimmering silver, almost dissolving in the air, Nami knew he didn't need much more.
"Yes, I am." She threw him a bright and beaming smile, certified to cause slight radiation poisoning in unwary bystanders. "Now, what do you say about our last afternoon tea? I have some scones and Vivi promised to bring that wild honey her father sends her. I think we might also have some of that lovely raspberry jam left over from last time, if we dare brave the fridge."
At the promise of food, tea and gossip, all worries disappeared and Bepo was a happy mink once more. "Looking forward to it. Before I forget – I got some more of that tea you like! The green one, with the flowers."
"Oh Bepo, you shouldn't have!" Nami laughed as she started tidying up her things. "I know how much you like that tea yourself."
"And now I want us to share a pot of it, so there."
"A pot of what?" Vivi said, peeking into the room. "Ready for our last tea session before someone" –she shot Nami a pointed look– "leaves us forever and ever, to be caught in the trap of beer, Bavarian men and yodeling."
"I'm not leaving you forever and ever," Nami said laughingly, gathering her stuff and bending over to pick up her fallen pencil. "I'm leaving you for the rest of spring, that's all."
"And then it's summer and you'll be at your fancy internship and then we'll never see each other again." Almost no-one could do sad puppy-eyes like Vivi, her big blue eyes filling with shimmering emotion as if by command (which it actually was, Nami knew for a fact, having observed Vivi practice in front of the mirror).
Although Bepo was a very, very close second.
Probably even a winner, in some regards.
Her musings on the power of eyes brimming with emotion was interrupted by the entrance of the one person she really didn't want to associate with the mirror of the soul. But before she had time to collect herself, she did a double take.
Something was off with Trafalgar Law, this day of all days.
For once, he was grinning.
It wasn't a smirk, sometimes coaxed forth as people around him made exceptionally insipid remarks or he figured out the perfect rebuttal to a censorious reviewer, but rather a soft-edged grin that now graced the angles of his face. It lent a delicacy to his features she hadn't seen so far, crinkling the corners of his eyes and bringing forth shimmering hues of gold and amber in those clever eyes of his.
Nami narrowed her eyes. "You're grinning. Did something good happen?"
"What? I can't smile for no reason?"
"I wouldn't really call that a smile, too many teeth. And there hasn't been a reason good enough during our acquaintance so far."
"I think I know the reason," Vivi said with a laugh, taking the basket of scones from Nami's unresisting hands. "Luffy fell down the stairs."
"Again?"
Law raised an eyebrow, amusement still evident at the corner of his mouth, making itself at home.
"He does that often?"
"It's been known to happen."
Law shrugged. "It's just so fun to see him bounce."
Nami nodded in silent agreement. It was like watching small children falling in winter; you knew they probably wouldn't get hurt, due to either excessive padding in the form of winter clothes (or the rubber body of a gomu gomu fruit-user in this particular case) and it was fun to watch the perplexity unfolding throughout the fall, their confusion cushioning their downward descent; like the fallee couldn't really understand what was happening nor how they should react, looking to their surroundings for clues – was this a place for tears or laughter?
"Well, I hope he had a better reason than the 'But I really thought I saw princess Diana' he used last time."
"This time it was excitement. They've published the shortlist for the summer course on creepy-crawlies he applied to and he's on it."
"You know you can call them bugs, right? Calling them by their proper name won't summon them."
"Better safe than sorry," Vivi said, arms akimbo and nose in the air, which was a feat as she was still holding the basket of scones. "There's still a last recommendation round and interview for him, but he was so excited to go and tell everyone about the shortlist that he fell down the stairs."
Nami couldn't help but smile at the image of an enthusiastic Luffy, bouncing down the stairs like a rubber balloon. "Well, I'm sure I'll hear all about it when I get home. But now, my dears: the hour of afternoon tea is upon us!" she exclaimed.
"Aye-aye! But Nami; let me know if I can help! P-values can be a bit annoying," Bepo said as he turned off his computer, getting ready for the finale of their traditional practice of Biweekly Afternoon Tea, the capitals easily falling into place.
"Problems with probability forecasting? Bepo can take a look, we did something similar when we were working on the behaviour of Rove beetles in bodies found in arid climates," Law said as he seated himself, positioning his coffee cup neatly on top of the small mountain created by his previously discarded cups.
"The thing you published in the Lancet? This isn't really that level of a problem. Besides, Bepo already promised to help me," Nami said, gathering the last of her things and dropping her notes in the rubbish, "but thanks."
Vivi's gentle laugh filled the space, dispersing the dark clouds once more gathering over Bepo's head. "Don't worry, Bepo, she's like that with everyone. It took her three months to start trusting me enough to accept my help, and at that point we had taken the same courses for half a term already."
"It's not about trust," Nami said, a petulant tilt to her voice. "I just don't see why I should bother others with unnecessary problems–"
"Because we are your friends and we want to help," Vivi said with a smile, patting her on the head in a comfortingly familiar and condescending way. "Ready for our last tea session, wannabee-lady and most-certainly-mink?"
"Aye-aye, princess!" Nami and Bepo saluted her before waving a cheerful goodbye to Law and leaving for their final social.
The laughter disappeared down the corridor before it cut off completely by the closing door.
And Law groaned as his head dropped into his waiting hands, heavy heart sitting like a stone in his stomach.
He had tried so hard to keep the woman out of his mind and life. He had toned down on office discussions and stopped asking her if she wanted coffee. He tried so hard to ignore her and keep his answers in the monosyllabic range.
And it had worked so well!
These days, his heartrate didn't climb through the roof every time he saw, heard or simply sensed her. He could focus on other things than the dimple that appeared beside her lovely mouth when she talked with Bepo, a gentle mixture of curiosity, exasperation and fondness mingling in her voice. The curve of her back, hidden under soft sweaters and prim office-appropriate shirts did still make certain parts of his anatomy very attentive, but that had also lessened to a manageable level – now he didn't have to feign being so engrossed in his work he didn't hear her every time she asked if he wanted to go get coffee in order not to have to rise from behind his desk.
And then he had to go and accept Luffy's idea of a thesis meeting at the Mermaid Café (which was a lovely place, he had been there twice after that already) and he had just known that cappuccino had been a bad idea when he was ordering it.
He had racked his brain, and still found no satisfactory reason, other than the novel experience of Italian coffee, for why he had a) agreed to join Luffy for the party at the Sunny, and b) why he didn't just grab Bepo and leave as soon as possible.
He really should have listened to his inner, sometimes quite annoying and pedantic voice, and honoured the Frenchman leaving for France by doing an unobtrusive 'French exit', a recent learning courtesy of a most delightful and educational podcast that now graced his evening commute.
And then something in the kitchen had compelled him to start talking to Nami.
A foreboding feeling of loss had consumed him, clutching his heart in its cold grip and restricting his breathing.
He just knew that if he didn't talk to her then, he'd never talk to her properly again.
And it had all been downhill from then.
The feelings he had tried to hide in a box and starve to death by lack of nourishment had apparently put down their roots in the tiniest of cracks in his defences, growing healthy tubers and a spindly stem, drinking in life with its delicate leaves, thin as silk, like some weird zombie houseplant.
Every time he had talked to her from that point onwards or solved her hideous attempts at Pictionary (which still made some sort of twisted sense to him) or helped her to another beer; it all just nourished the feelings he had tried to squish away in a box. But they had cracked the concrete, like weeds are wont to do, and kept striving towards the light that was her presence.
A small box, half-filled with the nicknackatories that gather during a working life, stood on her desk, waiting for the half of her tea collection that she hadn't gifted Bepo. Her crumpled papers were carelessly dropped in, and beside, the rubbish bin, her retrieved pencil thrown carelessly on top of her stuff.
Law had to swallow and think of the pitch of his old roommate's snoring when he remembered how she had bent over to retrieve that pencil; the curve of her backside in those impossibly tight jeans, soft sweater hugging her hips and bunching around her waist…
Bepo, shedding fur like a walking carpet.
The way their old apartment smelled like feet.
Cold, icy, empty, windswept tundra.
With a groan, his head hit the table, heart heavy in his chest and groin uncomfortably tight in his trousers.
The silver lining on this depressingly dark cloud was, in addition to better tea, that his own office was almost finished and so he and Bepo could finally relocate. Or return. However you wanted to put it. Anything to leave her behind, although she was the one actually doing the leaving.
And now she was leaving, and he didn't know how he would ever survive.
And he loathed it.
He had learned his lesson, all those years ago. He would never be dependent on anyone else for his happiness again.
The way she looked at him had turned peculiar in the last weeks, he had noted. The distance in her gaze had turned first puzzled and then warily baffled, although the last days had been spent in a haze of disquieting silences, punctuated by interrupted questions and a careful, almost choreographed skirting around each other, leaving a wide berth on all sides for the other's flight.
If he didn't know better, he'd think she had a crush on him.
He shook his head, turning on his computer that had gone to sleep. The familiar security of the cold blue light washed over him, putting things in focus.
He was just imagining things. She was just getting used to his decreased familiarity; it had taken a while, but they were now finding an equilibrium, seesawing on the outer reaches of friendship.
But if he could–
A sharp huff shut that door before it had time to open.
She was young. A wry grin twisted his mouth, so different from his earlier honest pleasure in the sight of a bouncing Luffy.
To be that young and naïve once more would be both a gift and a curse. Many were the things he regretted from his past, but he treasured the knowledge he'd gained from each one of his mistakes.
He'd not let her be one of them. Not if he could stop it.
Whatever sprouts of feelings he might have, he would not encourage hers. His own would be taken care of soon enough, but the stubborn woman had proven to be a much more resilient character than he'd anticipated, matching dry wit with insights conjured from an amalgamation of diverse fields and an apparently bottomless creative streak.
No, he would not encourage her.
With a start he realised the computer had gone to sleep again. A sigh dissolved into the afternoon sun, merrily streaming through the windows as he turned the machine on once more.
His lack of resolve at leaving the Sunny and unguarded interactions might have fanned fancies that really didn't suit such a woman.
And she was leaving, he reminded himself, numb fingers tapping away on the keyboard, and so the last interactions must be of material weight in determining her expectations.
In truth, he was happy for the opportunity to deprive the blasted little plant of 'romantic feelings' of the nourishment that was her presence.
Maybe then he'd be able to go back to seeing her just as another former colleague.
Although he didn't really keep in touch with many of those either.
Maybe that was for the best.
After the last tea session for many months, a session filled with much laughter, some gossip and even a touch of serious discourse regarding the best way to present your findings, it was time for Nami to scrape together the last points for her methodology class with Nico Robin, by virtue of attending the trial classes for the candidates for the much sought-after professorship.
Professor Nico, never one to do things the traditional way, had divided one methodology class into three hour-long slots and then drawn lots on who should take which subsection.
There were many benefits to having an unorthodox professor like Nico Robin and Nami would never claim that the complete and utter disaster that were the trial lectures was her fault.
But it could have gone a bit better, in all fairness: Robin had forgotten about the risk inherent in Luffy's presence.
They started off on a horribly wrong foot, if you asked Nami. This might have been based on the fact that the candidate in question was Caesar Clown, an old professor of hers who had less than stellar memories of their shared time together in Stockholm.
Nami solved the issue by slumping low in her seat and practically hiding under her table for the duration of their lecture, trying her best to ignore the shouting match Luffy, sharing a table with her, got into with Caesar on the best way to present epistemology in your publications.
Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered; nothing could make it worth it to endure Luffy's surprisingly strong voice booming through the class as he stood on top of his table to make his point better.
But then she remembered Robin and the bonus points. She needed those points. One course would not drag down her marks, not if she could remedy that by sitting in a couple of lectures, never mind the dusters flying above her head at the moment.
And this was the last official education-related thing she had to do before leaving for Germany.
She of course still had a bunch of other stuff to do, such as annoy Vivi a bit more and say a proper goodbye to Bepo and threaten Usopp into taking care of the mikan plant she was trying to grow.
Just two hours more of education. Or destruction, whatever came first.
Then she'd be free.
The second professorial candidate wasn't much better than the first, as it turned out to be Luffy's old nemesis Sakazuki Fumihiko, whose lecture practices were straight from the 1950s. The matters were not helped by Luffy, who, for some inexplicable reason, refused to address him as anything other than Red Dog. The only thing that saved the lecture hall from complete disaster and destruction was the timely interference of Professor Nico and the Dean and the fact that Nami dragged Luffy out by his ear to much rejoicing and celebration from the assembled student corps.
After a slight clean-up of the lecture hall and the exile of Luffy (after Professor Nico promised him two out of the three bonus points possible), the third lecture could begin.
After the disaster of the first two lectures, Nami's hopes for the third one were low indeed, but when she stepped into the lecture hall, she was greeted by a most unexpected sight.
The first thing she noticed was the unconventional arrangement of the room: all the chairs were organised in a wide circle instead of the customary rows.
The second thing catching her attention was the soft classical music playing in the background and the bright sunlight, streaming through windows.
The last candidate wouldn't be drowning them with powerpoint slides?
This boded well.
And the third thing, which really should have been the first thing indeed, now she got this far in her evaluation of the room, was the figure seated on the edge of a table off to a side of the room.
A handsome man, built on a larger scale than was usually seen, was seated on the edge of the pulpit, pushed haphazardly against the wall. An eclectic combination of geometric patterns and shades of neon adorned his clothes, a pink fluffy coat thrown over the chair behind him. Matching pink sunglasses adorned a sharp nose, seated atop a wide, blindingly white and wide grin. What body was visible under the clothes were lean and tall and those legs seemed to go on forever. The favourable impression was crowned by cropped blond hair and the general air of relaxation and an ethereal search for truth now permeating the classroom.
"Welcome to our daily treatise on ontology. Now, if you'll take a seat–"
The deep rumble of his voice seemed to saunter into her bones and wrap itself around the marrow itself. It felt like her muscles suddenly turned to jelly and she sank down on a chair closest to the door.
And started the most interesting hour of her university experience so far.
References:
Bakkevig, M. K., & Nielsen, R. (1994). Impact of wet underwear on thermoregulatory responses and thermal comfort in the cold. Ergonomics, 37(8), 1375-1389.
Jonason, P. K., Li, N. P., & Cason, M. J. (2009). The "booty call": A compromise between men's and women's ideal mating strategies. Journal of Sex Research, 46(5), 460-470.