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The fitful sleep would not leave her; plaguing her bones and sending shocks up her spine. The conjured images of webbed hands grasped at her clothes, clawing at her skin as she writhed in panic. Fighting for her life, she thrashed in her sleep. Fists flew in the empty space above her bunk, the air around her growing heavy with anxiety–heavy with fear. She found her voice in the final throes of the nightmare’s presence, a guttural scream ripping forth from her hoarse vocal cords as she flung herself upright.
Her chest heaved with every movement as she gulped down air with greed and gratitude.
She was alive. She was safe. She wasn’t underwater, or being hauled away by blood-stained hands of pirates sailing under another flag. She was with another crew: her crew.
Silence permeated the ringing in her ears, offering the slightest comfort in the empty, dark women’s cabin. They couldn’t find her here, she told herself. They couldn’t find her if they tried; not without her navigational skills.
That fact faded in the face of pure fear—pure fear that Arlong would somehow find her. That he would somehow rip her from the only family she has known since her mother was murdered in front of her; the only people she ever trusted enough to ask for help. But what help could she offer? What value did she bring to this unruly group of saviors? Unsavory as they were, she still owed them her life.
And that debt was one she intended to repay.
Just as her heart rate was starting to even out, she heard a soft knock at her cabin door.
“Nami dear? I heard screaming, are you alright?” a panicked voice asked from behind the wooden panels of the door. She sighed; of course it was Sanji that would come to her aid. Who else would consider themselves so noble? Not Luffy or Zoro, that was for damn sure.
“I’m fine, Sanji. No need to worry,” she answered with a shaky voice, still hoarse from the nightmare. A beat passed before either broke the silence again.
“Are you sure? You sound upset; can I bring you some tea?”
There’s no getting rid of him when his mind is set on helping, I guess, she thought.
A tired sigh escaped her lips as she resigned herself to being seen in such a state. “Sure,” she called to the other side of the door. Hurried steps retreated in response, carrying their owner to the galley. Nami slumped out of her bunk. She searched for a stray sweater to wrap her sweat-cooled skin in and steeled herself for the conversation she was sure she could not avoid. Her bare feet padded across the floorboards, making her way to join her crewmate. The galley glowed as a guiding light, breaking the heaviness of the early morning dark; a tiny semblance of peace in the maelstrom of her reeling mind.
Slender hands pushed open the galley door. Nami crossed the threshold to find her crew’s cook carrying two steaming cups of tea to the table. He looked up at her entry, offering a soft and reassuring smile as he placed her tea on the table and took the seat across. She stalked over to the table to sit opposite the cook. Cold fingers snaked around the cup, letting the warmth seep into her palms. “Thanks, Sanji,” she said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. The blonde frowned at his saddened crewmate, searching her face for answers.
“Nami dear, do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Sanji asked hesitantly. The redhead raised her cup to sip the tea: a perfectly blended medley of lavender, valerian root, and honey. The grounding, earthy flavors soothed her easily.
That damn cook is too good at his job, she thought.
“It was just a nightmare. It’s no big deal, honest,” she said with a dismissive wave of her free hand. Sanji’s smile turned from reassuring to sympathetic, holding her gaze as she deflected the question. Her eyes narrowed in response and she huffed, seeing through his game.
“Fine,” she met his challenge for the second time that night; she took a deep breath before reliving it all. “It was… about Arlong.”
“What about him?” he asked, voice even.
“He… He found me,” she explained, closing her eyes as she took another sip.
Sanji watched her patiently, seemingly willing to wait out any and all of her anxieties. She swallowed under his gaze, finding the nerve to continue.
“He had escaped from the Marines somehow and was getting all his crew back,” Her lashes lifted to meet her crewmate’s eyes, “whether we wanted to join or not.” Sanji nodded in understanding, his expression shifting to something more serious.
“He found the Merry,” he offered.
“He found the Merry,” Nami agreed. She dropped her gaze once more as she collected her thoughts. Recounting her nightmare became easier with each word; for all his obnoxious flirtations, Sanji was still part of the crew—still nakama—and he knew how to take care of his nakama.
“He caught us off-guard, and this time he didn’t underestimate you or Zoro. Instead of trying to fight you guys…” she trailed off, finger tips shaking as they instinctively curled tighter around her cup. “Instead of a fight, they went straight for me. Arlong said he’d kill me if any of you tried anything. H-He—” she stopped again, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. “He dragged me back to his ship. I couldn’t fight back—couldn’t even help my own crew, my friends—”
“Hey,” Sanji said, leaning in with an outstretched hand, as if he were approaching a wounded animal, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe, Nami, we won’t let any of those bastards get near you again. We’ve got your back. I’ve got your back,” he whispered, his confidence seeming to evaporate as a slight blush crept up his cheeks. Nami couldn’t stop the soft smile that spread across her face. She rested her hands on the table and met his gaze, her tears beginning to subside.
“Thank you, Sanji,” she said. The heaviness that weighed on her mind was starting to melt away through the warm tea and the pleasant company.
Wait, pleasant? she thought in surprise, I hadn’t considered Sanji as pleasant before. But maybe—
“Can I get you more tea, Nami-Swan?” the blonde asked in a sweeter tone; a familiar sound that grounded Nami, pulling her from her own thoughts. She pushed her cup towards him, drying her eyes with her sleeve.
“Please,” she replied.
The two sat in companionable silence for a while, neither compelled to break the spell of comfort that had settled in the galley. Sanji’s cup clinked against its saucer, catching Nami’s attention. Her brown eyes flicked up to his face; he only stared into the woodgrain of the table. His mouth opened, lips stuttering as if he was searching for the right words.
“I—,” he started, voice breaking in uncertainty. Sanji cleared his throat before he continued, “I have nightmares like that, too.”
It was Nami’s turn to stare, to silently offer him the space to continue. It was the least she could do after all his thoughtfulness and support. He closed his eyes and let out a breath.
“There are… people in my past that I would prefer stayed in the past. And if they found the Merry—if they found the crew?” His hands curled into trembling fists. “I could never forgive myself.”
Nami reached out, gingerly placing her hand atop his clenched fist. Sanji’s eyes shot open, darting upwards to meet her gaze: one shocked blue eye meeting two tired brown eyes. She offered him a soft smile and a gentle squeeze of her hand. The fight in him fizzled out; his hand relaxed into her comforting touch.
“You take such good care of us, Sanji,” she said, moving her free hand to join the other, grasping Sanji’s hand in both her own—her hands that have charted miles upon miles of lands, hands that had held the helm firm in the face of many a midnight storm, hands that cut into her own flesh in an effort to save a friend. He stared at these hands in awe that they would find purchase in him: in the useless prince, the hotheaded cook, the failure. His mind began to fill with familiar bottomless pools of anxiety, slowly crawling up his legs, coating his skin, drowning him until—
“You’ve taken such good care of me,” she whispered.
Her voice was the plug that Sanji could never seem to find to drain it all away. He felt like he could truly breathe again as her words rang in his ears. The scrape of chair legs on the galley floor snapped him back to the moment at hand. Nami rose from her seat, keeping hold of his hand, and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you, Sanji,” she gave him one last squeeze before she pulled her hands back and stood, “for everything.”
His blush deepened as he floundered for a response. Nami only gave him a sleepy smile and pulled her sweater tighter around her torso, shuffling towards the galley door. She stopped and turned back towards the table. “Wake me for breakfast, okay?” Sanji sputtered.
“O-Of course, Nami-Swan!” he managed to squeak out before she disappeared through the doorway. He could only stare as the door settled in its frame; a hand rose absentmindedly to touch his cheek. He sighed, finding the words too late yet unable to stop them from tumbling past his lips into the empty galley:
“Anything for you.”