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i. Library on the Sunny
It’s unusual for Nami to wake up before Robin if she’s not on the early watch, but whenever she does, she manages to steal out of their bedroom without disturbance. (Perhaps Robin’s become a heavier sleeper, too, but that is a thought she shoves to the side to observe more deeply later, because now the sun is rising and the bed is empty beside her.)
In the kitchen, the coffee has brewed; Robin pours some for Nami and some for herself and some for Usopp on watch, floating it out the door on a hand while she puts the sugar away. There’s enough left for them all to have another cup, or, more likely, for Usopp to split the remainder with Sanji. The mugs in her hands are not quite piping hot, though. How long ago had the coffee brewed?
It’s more than long enough, a thought confirmed when Robin pushes open the library door. There’s no other place Nami could be, but instead of asleep on the window seat or face planted in a book, she looks up bleary-eyed from where she’s stretched over what appears to be half the maps and charts they have, overlaid on one another on the table.
“That looks uncomfortable,” Robin says.
She doesn’t tell Nami she needs a break. Nami doesn’t say it either (whenever she does in a more serious way, and that’s rare, it falls from her mouth like she’s placing a jinx on herself--a habit that Robin knows too well is as difficult to break as a metal door with just a set of normal-sized hands). But she nods, stretches, and accepts the cup of coffee, and then the kiss that Robin offers.
ii. Skypeia
The air is lighter up here. Robin could have stopped noticing it, and she would have had she not tried, but now, when things are still again, she doesn’t need to pay attention to feel it. Perhaps she shouldn’t let herself be preoccupied with it, though; it lets her forget--how much of this time is borrowed, how keen Nami’s eyes and ears are, how she can’t expect to be able to sneak off alone for very long without putting in more legwork.
How Nami looks at her, shrewd but not shrewd enough, seeing things she wants to. Seeing what Robin both wants and doesn’t want to project. Seeing--possibilities that Robin should squash with a firm hand or five, like an insect, like the way the man who had called himself a god had done with lightning.
“We’re alone,” Nami says.
“I know,” Robin says, treading water, prolonging the moment, no hope of not ultimately slipping under.
She should stop this. She should point out the low sun, its unusual angle, shining from the treetops like a precious metal, but right now Nami wouldn’t let even that pull her away from this. Nami’s fingers are warmer than the light on the sides of Robin’s face, her mouth slowly moving up toward Robin’s as if the air for her is heavier.
There is plenty of time to stop this, but Robin does not.
iii. Holding Hands
Another victory means another party, and this time they’re all together and no one’s injured all that badly, a rarity of late. They’ve even managed to make off with a decent haul of treasure--and what else is the point of being a pirate, if not that? (That is not to mention all the usual things that necessitate them obtaining even more of it, like expensive repairs on the ship, exorbitant food and drink costs that somehow just keep climbing worse than an invasive vine up an orange tree, and other things that Nami would rather not think about at the moment because this is a party and she’s going to enjoy herself.)
“You look troubled.”
Were Nami to remain looking away from the voice, a disembodied hand would likely turn up to tilt it in the right direction. But when she does look, a hand attached to a wrist and that to the rest of Robin’s body is outstretched, and she takes hold.
“Just thinking about how expensive these guys are.”
As if to illustrate her point, somewhere on the other side of the ship voices are rising, what sounds like Sanji’s yelling about fifteen hams already (Luffy, or several other people combined?) and someone else about how much cake is left.
“What about me?” says Robin. “I had my share.”
“Yeah,” says Nami. “Your share.”
“I’m not satisfied yet, though,” says Robin, and--fuck, she is embarrassing like that, saying that sort of thing with a smile that lights up the day like a second sun, completely obvious.
“So?” says Nami. “What’ll it be?”
“Well, to start with...” says Robin.
She tugs Nami by the hand into a kiss, catching her other hand as they go. Nami has many more pressing matters to think of than cost-cutting now.
iv. On the Polar Tang
The celebration has been going on long enough that they can slip away, off into the shadows. Nami’s sure they aren’t completely unnoticed, but no one’s following them or bothering them, and it’s enough for her. They’ve won; they’re alright; Nami has barely let go of Robin’s hand all afternoon and into the evening. The noise of the party fades as they move along the path, Robin moving, as she always does, as if there’s a destination in mind.
“Where are we headed?” says Nami.
(West is the obvious answer, toward the general direction of the sun and the coast.)
“I left some things on the submarine before we landed,” says Robin. “I think now is a good time to get them.”
She winks at Nami, and Nami wants to say that they’re already alone enough, but--to have Robin push her against the walls of a ship, even an unfamiliar one, and to be out, once again, on the water where she belongs much more than on any land--Robin smiles, as if reading her thoughts as easily as an instruction manual.
Robin makes a show of poking around the kitchen, while Nami waits. She hasn’t seen much of the inside of the Hearts’ ship before, but it’s clean, if cramped. (How do all of them fit into it? How had they managed to add Robin and the others? It’s not important.) There’s more than enough room for just her and Robin, though, and if Robin really has left something here, she can leave it a few moments more. Nami tugs on Robin’s wrist.
“Yes?” says Robin.
She leans back against the counter, but Nami has to stand on tiptoe to meet their lips together.
v. Surprise!
Nami has been incredibly obvious today that she’s detaining Robin in their room for some reason or other. After they’d stayed in bed until nearly ten, she’d jumped out and brought Robin breakfast in bed. Sanji had brought lunch and stayed to chat with them until Nami had kicked him out, and he must be in on whatever she’s planning--all of them must, or maybe it’s Nami who’s in on what they’re planning. Do they think she’d disapprove? Is it something involving her? (Then why don’t they ask her?) It is difficult to focus on the game of Old Maid that Nami tries to engage her in after lunch; she loses four hands in a row and then Nami puts the cards down.
“What’s going on?” says Robin.
“It’s a surprise,” says Nami. “Though—”
She checks her watch. “It’s probably okay now. I told them you wouldn’t last until midnight.”
“Midnight?”
“Yes,” says Nami. “Tomorrow.”
Robin glances at the daily calendar on Nami’s night table. Tomorrow--tomorrow is her birthday, and she’d forgotten. And somehow the crew had planned an entire party without her realizing before now.
“I can be pretty stealthy when I want to be,” Nami says in a very smug tone.
She kisses the side of Robin’s neck and tugs her to her feet. “You’re going to love it.”
Robin has no doubt she will.