#1x05—1x08 ✍︎︎
They first meet in the middle of a drove of nauseatingly colorful pirates. As far as fateful encounters go, the swordsman surmises that this one will be one of the most memorable. Not because of all the nameless, pathetic excuses for pirate combatants surrounding him. Not because of the mentally unstable murder clown or the vengeful scarf-wearing, sword-wielding unicyclist. (Questionable choice. Seems like a strangling hazard.) Or even because Luffy managed to, yet again, get himself stuck in a ridiculous situation.
It was because of the brazen, pretty girl who stood in surprise with badly burned hands and told him she was fine. He knew she wasn't fine. He had heard her screams when he arrived at the big top. Saw the discomfort in her eyes in the days that immediately followed. But she had resilience. Guts. And he was a little impressed by it.
In the moments after he had saved her, he had glanced over his shoulder to check on her. For an instance, there had been a microscopic shift in the air between them. Something inexplicably tangible that his heightened senses jumped on. He had chalked it up to apprehension on her end that was just projecting outward and nothing more. Looking back, it was likely the first indication that his bond with her would be different.
When he had finally turned around and gotten a better look at her, her attractiveness had caught him off guard. But it was short-lived and that was all the attention he afforded her. A caged Luffy, a reassembling clown, and a stab wound to his abdomen took precedence over any immediate introductions.
𖣘𖣘𖣘
Amidst the blood loss and the strain of heaving up a stone cage over his shoulder, Zoro vaguely recalls asking Luffy who the pretty girl in the striped shirt was.
Their new navigator, Nami; was a treasure-loving thief who didn't like to owe anyone. But her morals were honest enough and she made a point of returning favors to those she felt deserved them. Stealing that rusty key for Luffy was proof of that. And this was all the information he needed to accept her as an ally. She might have taken a firm stance on not joining their crew at first, yet her resoluteness was shaky at best. He had a feeling that she would be coming with them, whether she knew it yet or not. Deep down, she probably did. He got the sense her intuition was as fine-tuned as his.
𖣘𖣘𖣘
The first day at sea succeeding the events with the Buggy Pirates, was uneventful. Zoro spent the majority of that time catching up on Z's and healing his wound. He did eventually give in to Nami's pestering over stitching up his wound on the second day. His singular reason for doing so was that it would be a much-needed change of pace. He still maintained the belief that sleep was the only treatment he needed, and in turn, she continued to roll her eyes at the impracticality of that idea. The entire exchange tickled their captain. Luffy viewed their banter as a sign of crew bonding. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe they just wanted to argue just for the sake of arguing. Zoro didn't know. But he wouldn't deny that Nami's presence made the long days at sea just a smidge more bearable.
Zoro often found himself observing her when he grew tired of the scenery. His captain was an open book, but the navigator was a different story entirely. She was animated but reserved. Kept her secrets close to her chest and guarded behind a friendly or sometimes fiendish smile. She was playful and put together, exuding confidence and intelligence with vibrancy. And admittedly, between his captain and her—Nami was far better to look at.
But sometimes, on rare occasions, he'd catch her randomly in these brief moments where her walls became translucent and the face she wore was pensive. Her muscles would tighten and her posture took on a rigid quality. Almost as if she was preparing for a fight. Her eyes would be burning in determination with this far-off, abstruse look that spoke of hard-fought trials. It was this look in particular that drew him to her the most. This expression reminded him of an illustrious, weathered warrior on the precipice of battle. Secretly, he was captivated by it.
So he would covertly watch her, for hours sometimes, waiting for that fire in her pupils to flare to life again. If he was a different man, he might wonder what caused those flames. But Zoro didn't care about any of that, truth be told; her reasons were her own. What mattered to him was that she had the guts to keep fighting and in the short time he'd come to know her, he had a feeling that she did.
After the embers of whatever hidden war she was fighting died in her eyes, she would occasionally turn to look over at him in the second boat. It was her way of telling him she was cognizant of his observation of her. When Nami did look, he would simply quirk a brow at her. Goading her to speak up. To call him out. To divulge she was equally as guilty of monitoring him for long, drawn-out periods. Which she was. He might not have shown it, but he was hyper-aware of her attention.
But Nami never did. If she offered a reaction at all instead of turning back away, it would be a curt roll of her eyes. Her pride twisted his lips up in amusement sometimes.
This repetitive back and forth carried over several days until it finally came to a head late one night.
Nami had purposely waited until Luffy had fallen into a deep sleep before addressing him.
"Don't you have something better to do with your time than staring at me all day?" She's going for nonchalance.
"Not really," he yawns. "Have any suggestions? I'm all ears."
"You're a swordsman."
He snorts.
"Just noticing that now? I'm disappointed, Nami. I thought you were smart." He's fucking with her, and she knows it too. When she doesn't respond immediately, he glances over his shoulder and the sight of her trying her damndest not to show how amused she is, has him feeling a tad bit smug.
Something sounding close to, "You're such a shit," expels from her lips in a vapored huff.
"You could train," she tries again.
"Not enough room."
"Strength training?"
"No equipment."
He half expects her to fire off another suggestion, but she does little more than mutter something to herself that he can't quite make out. After a period of silence, Zoro shifts fully to look at her on the neighboring boat. The navigator is deep in thought. He can't at all fathom why, if she wanted to fuck, all she had to do was ask. He wouldn't tell her no. Zoro was by no means a scholar, but he was still insightful enough to understand what all this back and forth was leading up to. They found each other mutually attractive, the only reasonable conclusion to all of this tension was sex.
He waits her out with some intensity behind his stare. And eventually, he resigns himself that a late-night fling to pass the time wasn't in his cards tonight. A mild disappointment, but nothing to lose sleep over.
Until the telltale sign of her biting her lower lip hooks his attention. Her eyes lift and the look she's giving him suddenly has him sitting up straight.
"Would an alternative work?"
"Alternative?" He asks despite already having an idea of what she's implying.
"You need weights," she states matter-of-factly. "Can't you find a substitute on board? A barrel of apples? A person?"
"You offering?"
"And if I am?"
Despite the chill in the air, there's an unexpected warmth surging through his veins—a temptation only heightened by the growing silence and the quickness of her breath.
They hold their stare.
Then, in the blink of an eye, they're no longer on two separate boats.
It's been a while since he's spent time with a woman like this. He's out of practice and limited in experience, but it's a predicament she seems to share. They fumble through kisses until they find the timing and rhythm that works best for them at the moment. A pace halfway between urgent and exploratory that further heats his blood. She guides his hands where she wants them, a boldness he's quickly growing to like. His grip is firm and clumsy. A complete contrast to her hands that map out his back, shoulders, and chest with meticulous fingers. Compatible opposites, he guesses.
Zoro's not sure how long they spend kissing, but at some point, they reach the cabin door. When they pull apart, breathing heavily, the sight of her kiss-swollen lips and hooded eyes is nearly his undoing. He puts in some effort to reign in his baser desires for a moment. Before they go any further he wants to make sure she still wants this. They're crewmates now. He doesn't want to jeopardize that. If this blows up in his face, it's not just the two of them in the blast radius. It'll affect Luffy too.
"Nami—"
She answers him before he can even form the question. "I'm sure."
The momentary relief must be evident on his face because she gives him her first, small and truly genuine, smile. He offers her a crooked half-smile of his own. "Okay."
Nothing else is said.
She opens the door and he follows her down below deck.
𖣘𖣘𖣘
The sex was good, albeit a little awkward the first time, but it satisfied just the same. They go a couple rounds in total and Zoro leaves her boat that night feeling well satiated. It's been a long time since he felt contentment like this.
The next morning, Zoro wakes up on the smaller boat he shares with Luffy and goes about his uneventful day as normal. His captain was none the wiser he was ever one boat over for part of the night.
Nami doesn't treat him any differently. He regards her just as he had been doing up until now. They don't talk about their impromptu tryst—nor do either of them feel the need to. One look that morning was all it took for them to come to a mutual understanding—the tryst was nothing more than a heated exchange between two consenting individuals who had an itch they needed to be scratched. It worked out conveniently well and should they feel the need for an encore, both would be open to it.
If anything had changed throughout one night, it would be that when he observes her now, his eyes will glaze over every so often in remembrance as snippets of their entanglement enter his head uninvited. And when she meets his gaze after a few hours, he quirks his brow up at her as he did before—and she still rolls her eyes—but this time, there is a playfulness to their exchange that he willingly reciprocates.