No Ribbon Required
The kitchen of the Thousand Sunny was quiet now, the echoes of earlier laughter and chaos fading into the night. A soft orange glow from the lanterns lit the room, and the scent of mulled cider and spiced cookies still lingered in the air.
Nami and Zoro were the last ones awake, sharing the rare silence that came only after the rest of the crew had gone to bed. The sofa near the hearth was a comfortable spot, and the fire crackled gently in the small stone fireplace.
Nami sat with her legs curled beneath her, holding a glass of the expensive red wine Chopper had given her. The deep ruby liquid reflected the firelight as she swirled it idly. Zoro leaned against the armrest on the other end of the sofa, his posture relaxed but not lazy, the bottle of exotic sake Franky had gifted him resting in his hand.
The faint clink of her glass against the table as she set it down broke the quiet. "I think tonight was one of the best Christmases I've had," Nami said softly, her gaze fixed on the flames.
Zoro glanced her way, tilting his bottle before taking another sip. "It wasn't bad. No one broke anything important, and Luffy didn't try to eat the decorations." Nami laughed at that, a light, melodic sound that softened the lingering chill in the air.
"True. Though he did try to drink that melted chocolate. I thought Sanji was going to throw a fit."
Zoro smirked. "Would've been worth it to see."
She shook her head, smiling as she picked up her glass again. The warmth of the wine and the fire spread through her, loosening the tension in her shoulders. Her eyes flicked to Zoro briefly, catching the faint, amused curl of his lips as he stared at the fire. "It's rare for everyone to be so… relaxed," she said after a moment, her tone quieter now. "No fights. No disasters. Just… us." Zoro didn't reply immediately. He took another slow sip of his sake, letting her words settle in the stillness of the room.
"It's nice," he said finally. "But you've got that look on your face."
"What look?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"That one," he said, nodding toward her with a pointed glance.
Nami hesitated, her fingers brushing the stem of her glass. "I was just thinking about how different this is from… what I'm used to."
Zoro watched her, his steel eye steady. "Your hometown?"
"Yeah," she said, exhaling a small laugh. "Christmas back then was… simple. Bellemere never had much money, so there weren't any grand feasts or big presents. But she made it work."
He didn't interrupt, waiting for her to continue.
"She'd cook whatever she could—usually something small but special. And Nojiko and I would make decorations out of whatever we could find. Paper, leaves, shells. It wasn't much, but it felt like everything." Nami smiled faintly, the memory distant but warm. "Sometimes, Bellemere would stay up late with us, just talking or telling stories by candlelight. Those were my favorite moments."
"She sounds like she was tough," Zoro said, his voice low.
"She was," Nami said, glancing at him. "Tough, stubborn, and full of heart. She didn't have to take us in, but she did. And she made us a family."
Zoro's gaze didn't waver. "She must've been proud of you."
Nami's smile faltered slightly, her fingers tightening around her glass. "I like to think so. She never got to see how things turned out, though."
The fire popped in the hearth, filling the silence that followed. Zoro set his bottle down on the floor beside him, leaning forward slightly. "You think she'd like what you've done? The crew, the ship, everything?"
Nami looked at him, caught off guard by the question. It was not like him to ask questions. "Yeah," she said softly. "I think she'd like it. And… I think she'd like you."
His brow lifted slightly at that. "Me?"
"She had a thing for people who didn't take crap from anyone," Nami said, a small smile returning to her lips. "And you… well, you're about as stubborn as they come."
Zoro smirked at that, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his expression. "Think she'd like me better than the cook?"
Nami blinked, startled by the shift in his tone. "What?"
"You heard me," Zoro said, leaning back against the sofa. His voice was casual, but his eye was attentive, watching her reaction. "Think she'd like me better than Sanji?"
The question threw her off balance. There was something in the way he asked it, like he was challenging her to admit something. She searched his face, but his usual stoic mask betrayed nothing—only the faintest glint of amusement in his eye.
"Definitely you," she said, testing him.
Zoro tilted his head, his gaze unwavering. "That so?"
Nami nodded, leaning back as if to mirror his posture. "She didn't have much patience for flirtatious types. She preferred people who were… dependable."
"Dependable," Zoro repeated, his voice softer now. "That what you're looking for?"
Her pulse quickened, but she kept her expression steady. "Depends. Are you offering?"
The words left her lips before she could stop them, and for a moment, the air between them shifted. The crackling of the fire seemed louder, the warmth of the room suddenly rising.
Zoro's gaze stayed locked on hers, his look unreadable but heavy. Nami held his stare, her chest tightening with uncertainty.
"What if I am?," Zoro said finally, his voice low and measured.
Nami blinked, startled by the weight of his words. For a moment, she thought she'd misheard him. The usual calm, unbothered tone he carried wasn't there anymore—this was deliberate, pointed. She leaned back slightly, her fingers tightening around the wine glass in her hand as she tried to keep her composure.
"That's… pretty bold of you, marimo," she said, her voice light but with an edge of caution. "You don't usually talk like this."
Zoro's lips curved into the faintest of smirks, though his eye didn't soften. "Maybe I just don't waste words when they matter."
That hit harder than she'd expected, and her breath caught. She'd teased him plenty of times, poked at his stoicism, his one-track mind. But this was unexpected. There was intent in his voice, in the way he sat there, leaning slightly forward now, his elbows resting on his knees.
"Zoro," she started, then paused, unsure of where she was even going with the sentence. "Are you… being serious right now?"
His smirk faded, replaced by a steadiness that made her stomach flip. "When have you known me not to be?"
The room seemed smaller suddenly, the warmth of the fire more intense, or maybe it was just the way his words settled into the air between them, leaving no room for misunderstanding. Nami set her glass down on the table carefully, as if any sudden movement would shatter the fragile tension hanging between them.
"You're not exactly the type to… flirt," she said, testing the waters, her voice quieter now.
"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow. There was no amusement in his tone now, only a sharp edge that made her breath hitch again. "You think I'd waste my time playing around like that?"
Nami didn't know whether to feel challenged or disarmed. She leaned forward slightly, studying his face. Zoro wasn't moving, wasn't retreating into the usual stoic armor he wore. He was just there, solid and unflinching, waiting for her reaction.
"I don't know what to think," she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper. It felt strange to say that out loud, but she wasn't in the mood for games either.
Zoro tilted his head slightly, his eye narrowing as if he was trying to read her. "You're overthinking it. It's simple."
"Simple?" she echoed, letting out a breathy laugh. "Nothing about you is simple."
He shrugged, leaning back against the sofa again, though his gaze never left hers. "It is to me. I don't say things unless I mean them. And I don't waste time with people I don't care about."
Her chest tightened, and she had to remind herself to breathe. There was no mistaking it now. This wasn't teasing or some throwaway comment meant to get a rise out of her. Zoro was being honest, as blunt and straightforward as ever, and that made it all the more disarming.
"Why are you telling me this now?" she asked, her voice softer, but the question carried a weight that neither of them could ignore.
He leaned forward again. "Why not?"
She flushed at that, her cheeks warming as much from the firelight as from his words. "I wasn't expecting you to—"
"To what?" he interrupted, his tone steady but insistent. "To confess?"
"I wasn't expecting you to be so direct," she admitted, meeting his gaze again.
Zoro's lips twitched, though it wasn't quite a smile. "Figured you'd appreciate it."
She couldn't argue with that, even if she wanted to. She hated ambiguity, hated being left guessing. But this was Zoro, and hearing him speak so plainly about something that felt so loaded left her scrambling to keep up.
"So," she said, her voice firmer now as she sat up straighter. "What exactly are you saying?"
"I think you know," he said simply, his eye holding hers with a steadiness that made her heart race.
She opened her mouth to reply, but the words didn't come. Instead, she found herself leaning back slightly, her pulse pounding in her ears. She hated how he was so calm, so composed, while she felt like the ground beneath her was shifting.
"And if I said I didn't know what to do with that?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
Zoro shrugged, leaning back again. "Then I'd wait. You're worth it."
Her breath caught again, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at him.
Nami hadn't expected and wasn't entirely sure how to handle this kind of tension. She wasn't used to this. Zoro was supposed to be predictable, straightforward in his gruff, no-nonsense way. But this conversation was completely out of his character.
She folded her arms as if to put some space between them, though it didn't help much. His presence was overwhelming her.
"You're really not going to let this go, are you?" she asked, her voice quiet but tinged with exasperation.
Zoro shrugged, his posture still relaxed, but his eyes held hers with unsettling intensity. "You brought it up," he said simply. "And I don't back down once I start something."
"That sounds about right," she muttered, her lips pressing into a thin line. She hated how calm he looked, like he'd already decided where this conversation was going to end. "But this isn't one of your fights, Zoro. You can't just swing a sword at it and hope it works out."
He tilted his head slightly, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You think that's all I know how to do it?"
Nami hesitated, caught off guard by the quiet challenge in his tone. "No," she admitted, her voice softer now. "But this… it's not the same."
"Why?" Zoro asked, leaning forward slightly. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. "Because it's me?"
"Yes," she said quickly, then stopped, realizing how that sounded. She winced and looked away, her fingers brushing against her knee. "I mean, no. I don't know. Maybe."
Zoro didn't move, didn't rush to fill the silence. He just watched her, letting her stumble through her own words. It was infuriating and unsettling all at once.
"I'm not good at this," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm good at planning, at controlling things, at knowing what's coming next. But this?" She gestured vaguely between them. "This is messy. And I don't do messy."
"Life's messy," Zoro said plainly. "You can't plan everything."
She let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Yeah, I'm starting to notice that."
For a moment, the only sound was the crackling fire, filling the space where neither of them seemed willing to speak. Nami's gaze dropped to her hands, and she noticed they were trembling slightly. She hated how vulnerable she felt, how exposed.
"You're so calm about it. Like you've already decided everything, and I'm just supposed to go along with it." She said suddenly, her voice sharper now, tinged with frustration.
"I'm not deciding anything for you," Zoro said evenly. "I'm just telling you where I stand."
"And where is that?" she demanded, her eyes snapping to his.
Zoro didn't flinch. "Here," he said simply. "With you. If you'll have me."
Her breath caught for the thousandth time.
"You make it sound so easy," she said finally, her voice trembling slightly.
"It's not," he admitted. "But it doesn't have to be impossible either."
She looked away, her chest tightening. "I'm not like you, Zoro. I don't just… trust fate."
"I know," he said quietly. "But you trust me, don't you?"
The question hit her harder than she expected, and she felt the sting of tears rise unbidden. She blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall. "That's not the point."
"It is," Zoro said, his tone firm but not unkind. "You already know I've got your back, Nami. Always have. This isn't any different."
She let out a shaky breath, her hands curling into fists in her lap. "It feels different."
"Okay, it is," he said. "But it doesn't have to be scary."
She looked at him again, her eyes searching his face for any sign of doubt, any crack in his certainty. There was none. He was as steady as ever, and it made her want to scream and cry all at once.
"What if you're wrong?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
"I'm not," he said simply.
The conviction in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she hated how much she wanted to believe him. She closed her eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. When she opened them, she met his gaze head-on, no longer trying to hide the vulnerability she felt.
"You're really not going to let this go, are you?" she asked again, though her tone was softer now.
"No," Zoro said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I told you—I don't back down."
The tension between them felt unbearable now, suffocating and electric. Nami could feel her pulse pounding in her ears, and she knew there was no going back from this moment. She could walk away, retreat to the safety of her room and pretend this conversation never happened. Or she could take the leap.
"Fine," she said, her voice trembling but resolute. "If you're so sure, then prove it."
Before she could second-guess herself, he leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him toward her as his lips met hers. The kiss was intense, unapologetic, as if he was trying to pour all his conviction into it.
A soft, broken sound escaped her before she could stop it, her fingers twisting tighter into the fabric of his shirt. His hands slid to her waist, rough and warm, grounding her in a way she hadn't realized she needed. He held her like she was something precious, something worth holding on to.
Her body melted against his before she could even think about resisting. The weight of everything—the fear, the longing, the stubborn hope she had tried so hard to bury—crashed into her all at once. She felt the burn behind her eyes again, the sting of tears she still refused to let fall, but she didn't pull away. She couldn't.
Zoro's grip on her tightened just slightly, as if he knew, as if he could feel the way she was unraveling in his arms. His thumb brushed against her hip in a slow, steady motion, a silent reassurance that she wasn't falling alone.
When they finally broke apart, she was breathless, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. She kept her eyes closed for a moment, afraid that if she looked at him, she would completely lose whatever fragile control she had left.
But when she did, when she met his gaze, there was no mockery, no arrogance. Just quiet certainty.
"Still think I'm wrong?" he asked, his voice low.
She let out a shaky laugh, her forehead resting against his. "I think you're a pain in the ass."
Zoro smirked, his hands still resting on her waist. "Yeah, well, you're not exactly easy either."
For the first time that night, she let herself smile, her walls cracking just enough to let him in. Maybe it wouldn't be easy. Maybe it would be messy. But for once, she was willing to take the risk.
Nami leaned back slightly, her hands still resting against Zoro's chest as she tried to steady her breathing. The weight of what just happened hung in the air, but the tension had begun to fade, leaving something warmer in its place. She felt the corners of her lips twitch, a faint smirk forming as a thought crossed her mind.
"Well," she said, her voice teasing as she tilted her head at him, "if this is going to work, we're going to need some ground rules."
Zoro raised an eyebrow, his hands still resting casually on her waist. "Ground rules? What are we, in a contract negotiation?"
"Call it whatever you want," Nami said, sliding back just enough to give him a playful glare. "First: You do not get to just grunt or shrug your way through every disagreement. If we're going to argue, you have to use actual words."
Zoro let out a huff of amusement. "Fine. But only if you don't try to weasel your way out of things by sweet-talking me when you're wrong."
She gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand to her chest. "I do not sweet-talk my way out of—" She stopped herself, narrowing her eyes. "Okay, fine. But if I agree to that, you have to promise not to storm off mid-argument to 'train' like some brooding hero."
Zoro's smirk grew wider, and he gave a mock bow of his head. "Deal. As long as you promise not to turn every minor inconvenience into a debt I owe you."
Nami opened her mouth to protest but immediately closed it, caught red-handed. She gave him a sheepish grin instead. "I'll… try. No promises."
"Figures," Zoro muttered, shaking his head, though there was no real heat in his tone.
"And third—this is very important—you cannot, under any circumstances, involve Sanji in this."
That drew a low chuckle from Zoro. "That's the easiest one yet. The cook can stay as far out of this as possible."
"Good," Nami said, crossing her arms. "Because I'm not dealing with his jealous fits every time you so much as sit near me."
"Like I'd let him get away with it," Zoro muttered, his voice low. "I'll take care of him if he tries anything."
Nami raised an eyebrow at that, intrigued by the subtle possessiveness in his tone. She filed it away for later teasing but decided to keep the moment light. "And don't forget—you still have to do your share of the work on the ship. Just because we're… involved doesn't mean I'm cutting you any slack."
"Involved," Zoro repeated, tasting the word like it was foreign on his tongue. He leaned back against the sofa, arms crossing over his chest. "You've got a funny way of putting things."
"What would you call it?" she challenged, leaning back too, though her smirk never wavered.
Zoro shrugged, his usual nonchalance on full display. "Trouble"
She rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd say that."
"But," he added, his voice softening slightly, "I'm good with trouble."
She looked away, fiddling with the edge of the blanket draped over her lap. "Well, just don't make it too much trouble, alright? I don't have the patience for that."
"Then stop overthinking everything," he said, smirking at her as he reached for his sake bottle. "I've got more conditions, you know."
"Oh, really?" she asked, her tone skeptical as she turned back to him. "This I have to hear."
"Don't expect me to remember every little thing you say. If it's important, write it down."
Nami glared at him, though there was no real heat behind it. "That's your condition? Really?"
"Oi," he said, shrugging, "I'm just being honest. I'm not keeping track of all your schemes."
"They're not schemes," she said defensively, sitting up straighter. "They're plans. And you'll thank me for them when we don't die."
"Sure, plans," Zoro said, his smirk widening. "Whatever you say, cat burglar."
Her cheeks flushed, and she swatted his arm lightly. "Ok, any more conditions, then?"
He pretended to think for a moment, scratching his chin. "Don't expect me to change who I am. I'm not turning into one of those guys who brings flowers and writes love notes."
Nami snorted, rolling her eyes. "Trust me, I wouldn't want that. Can you imagine?"
Zoro raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. "What, you don't think I could be romantic if I wanted to?"
"No, I don't," she said, laughing. "Your idea of romance is probably sparring until one of us passes out."
He shrugged, entirely unbothered. "Could be worse."
Nami shook her head, still laughing, and leaned back against the sofa again. The tension from earlier had dissolved into something lighter, easier—something that felt almost… natural.
"So, we've got rules," she said after a moment, her tone thoughtful. "But what happens when we inevitably break them?"
Zoro's smirk softened into something more genuine. "Then we figure it out."
Nami glanced at him, her lips curving into a small smile. For once, she didn't feel the need to argue. "Alright," she said quietly. "We'll figure it out."
"Good," Zoro said, leaning back and closing his eye, his bottle of sake resting loosely in his hand. "Now stop overthinking and let me sleep."
She laughed softly, picking up her glass again. As she sipped, she couldn't help but glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Maybe this would get complicated, but she wasn't so afraid of the unknown.
The fire crackled softly, the warmth filling the cozy space as the night grew quieter. Nami and Zoro sat in comfortable silence now. The glow of the firelight danced across their faces, and for a moment, the only sounds were the occasional sip of wine or sake and the steady rhythm of their breathing.
Nami set her glass down on the table, her fingers brushing over its smooth edge as she glanced sideways at Zoro. He looked more relaxed than she'd ever seen him, his usual sharp edges softened by the warmth of the room—and maybe by her presence.
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I guess we kind of stumbled into this, didn't we?"
"Yeah," he said, opening his eye again, his smirk returning. "But I've had worse falls."
The soft hum of the ship rocked them gently, and Nami found herself leaning closer to him, her head resting lightly against his shoulder.
Nami smiled, her eyes closing as she let herself relax against him. "Best Christmas ever."
Zoro's hand moved almost instinctively to rest on hers, his rough fingers curling gently around her smaller ones. "Best present," he muttered, so softly she almost didn't catch it.
She opened her eyes, tilting her head to look up at him. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," he said quickly, though the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.
"Zoro," she said, smirking now, "did you just say I'm the best gift you've ever gotten?"
"Don't push your luck," he grumbled, though he didn't pull his hand away.
Nami chuckled, her fingers tightening slightly around his. "Too late."
And just like that, with the ocean swaying beneath them and the scent of salt in the air, she realized—maybe she hadn't just stumbled into this. Maybe she had been heading toward it all along.
A/N: Hello there! Found this one lost on my drafts. I know I'm a little late, but wouldn't wait until next xmas to publish it, haha.
Hope you guys have fun with this series! bye