That Thing You Do

Inspired by "That Thing You Do" by The Wonders


Nami never planned to stay long.

The alliance was temporary—strategic. One mission, one port, and then everyone goes their own way.

Simple.

Clean.

No strings.

Except Trafalgar D. Water Law kept doing this… thing.

That thing he did. That thing she hated.

That thing that made her chest tighten like a taut sail in a storm.

It wasn't big or loud or obvious.

Of course it wasn't—he was Law.

Reserved.

Distant.

Brooding like the sea right before a typhoon.

But every time she laughed a little too loud at Luffy's antics, Law would glance her way. Just a flicker of a gaze, like he was checking to make sure she was okay.

Every time she yelled at Usopp for spending her money on fireworks again, Law would pass her a drink wordlessly. Cold. Perfectly timed. Like he knew exactly how much patience she had left before she'd blow a fuse.

And when she talked about weather patterns or navigation routes, everyone else glazed over—but he listened. Not like he was tolerating her. Like he was genuinely interested.

Like he liked hearing her talk.

She hated it.

Because it wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair that he noticed things. That he did that thing—watching her like she was a mystery he'd already solved but didn't mind re-reading again and again.

It made her forget things. Like rules. Boundaries. Sense.

And that was dangerous.

Because the mission was over. The alliance done. The port temporary.

And yet, when she found herself still on the Polar Tang's upper deck at sunrise, she didn't move. And neither did he.

"You really leaving?" she asked casually, arms crossed, leaning back against the rail.

The sun peeked over the horizon, casting a warm glow across the sea—and across her. Her orange hair burned like firelight in the early dawn, a beacon. She wasn't even trying. And that annoyed her even more.

Law stood beside her, hands in his coat pockets, unreadable as ever.

"That was the agreement," he said.

"Right," she echoed, trying to sound breezy. "Agreements."

He didn't respond.

The silence stretched like a tide pulling back before a crash.

She turned her head slightly, just enough to see his profile. The sharp line of his jaw. The shadows under his eyes. He always looked a little tired. A little too burdened. But somehow—he looked steady, even when she wasn't.

"You always do that," she said finally, voice softer.

Law raised a brow, eyes still on the sea. "Do what?"

"That thing you do." She looked at him now, full on. "Like you're always leaving, even when you're standing right here."

He didn't look surprised. But he also didn't deflect.

Instead, he held her gaze. His eyes darker in the morning light.

And slowly—almost imperceptibly—he stepped closer. Not enough to cross a line, but enough that she could feel the warmth of him against the cool sea breeze.

"And you," he said, low and quiet, "always make it harder to leave than I planned."

Her throat tightened.

She hated how easily those words snuck under her skin.

"You trying to charm me, Surgeon-san?" she said, attempting a teasing smile.

"Is it working?"

A beat.

Then she laughed. Not the forced kind. The real one—the one that always caught people off guard. He didn't smile, not really. But there was a flicker of something in his eyes that told her he liked hearing it.

"Goddamn it," she muttered, shaking her head. "You and that stupid thing you do."

He tilted his head slightly, that ghost of a smile playing on his lips—the one he rarely let anyone see. The one she'd only seen maybe three times since they met. Four now, if she counted this.

Nami looked back out at the sea. Her fingers curled slightly over the railing. It would be easy to walk away. Say goodbye, just like they agreed. He'd leave, she'd go back to the Sunny, and things would go back to normal.

But her voice betrayed her before she could stop it.

"Stay another day," she said.

Law's brows lifted.

She didn't look at him this time. "You know, just in case Luffy accidentally sinks something again and needs you."

He studied her for a moment. Too long.

"Strategic," he replied, almost too smoothly.

She smirked. "Exactly."

They stood there like that, shoulder to shoulder. Close, but not touching. The sounds of the harbor came to life around them—wood creaking, gulls cawing, waves gently slapping against the hull.

Somewhere behind them, Bepo was calling out orders. She could hear Chopper arguing with Shachi over medical supplies. A few feet below, Robin and Franky were examining some strange ship mechanism with open curiosity.

The world moved forward.

But for some reason, they didn't.

Nami glanced at him again. His eyes were still on the water, but the tension in his shoulders had eased. His hand shifted slightly in his pocket. Maybe he was considering it. Maybe he already decided.

"Luffy's gonna give me hell if I don't show up by noon," she said after a while.

Law gave a soft huff. "You sound like you care."

"I care about my money," she deadpanned. "Which he loses. Frequently."

Another flicker of a smile.

She looked away again. Then cleared her throat. "You know, for someone who acts all cold and aloof, you're actually kind of sweet."

"Don't spread that rumor," he said.

"I won't. But I'll keep it."

That caught him off guard. He glanced sideways. She wasn't teasing anymore.

"…You're hard to read," he murmured.

"I like it that way."

They lapsed into silence again. But this time, it wasn't awkward.

It was comfortable.

Too comfortable.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

Because it meant she was already used to him. To his presence. To the space he took up without saying much. To that thing he did—always watching. Always listening.

And he never once asked for anything in return.

"Do you regret working with us?" she asked, quietly.

"No."

"Not even the part where Brook played a six-hour violin solo?"

"…That one, maybe."

She snorted. "You stayed for the whole thing."

"You were watching."

She looked at him, eyes narrowing. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Law said simply, "that I stayed because you stayed."

Her breath caught.

Goddamn it.

There it was again.

That thing.

The sun was climbing higher now. The day officially beginning. People stirring, missions resuming. Ships readying to sail.

She should go.

She had every reason to.

But instead, she stayed.

And maybe they'd part ways tomorrow.

Maybe not.

But today—today they'd blame strategy.


A/N:
I'm back to doing what I love!
So much has happened over the past three, four years.
Living in Japan had always been my dream—but reality hit harder than expected.
When people said you'd become a "slave" in a Japanese company, I thought it was just an exaggeration.
Spoiler alert: it's not.
Turns out, when there's smoke, there's definitely fire.
But here I am, picking myself back up and doing what sets my soul on fire. Again.